Darwin
by Neolyph
Summary: "Everyone who ever changed the world was one sort of monster or another." These words set the course for Lelouch vi Britannia. Circumstances place him in a different position during his Japanese exile—and these circumstances give him the opportunity to form ambitions not just for Japan, but for the world. AU. Harem. Core cast, heavy story divergence.
1. Chapter 1: Start of Darkness

**Hello internet, Neolyph here to bring you Darwin: A Code Geass Story.**

 **Story Notes**

 **Plot Type (Divergence/Alternate Universe): Lelouch and Nunnally are kidnapped and raised in Japan by Marianne's supporters when they learn of her assassination at the hands of the Emperor. There, he uncovers the power of Geass and plans vengeance on his father while crafting a better world for his sister. I will be rewriting certain elements of the Code Geass universe as I see fit to make the story work, although I will usually make the divergence clear beforehand so that its not an ass-pull.**

 **Moral Tone: Grey, bordering on dark. No 'Super Sentai' Zero**

 **Sexual Tone: No explicit lemons, but sexual scenes.**

 **Story Tone: Lelouch and other Code Geass characters as they could have been, freed from the stupid inhibitions that held them back in canon. Political/Military thriller, mixed with Harem romance. Some dark sections, mixed with enjoyable 'fuck yeah' action and Lelouch-esque gambits.**

 **Pairings: Lelouch/Kallen/Milly/Sayoko/Mao the Refrain/Kaguya/Euphemia/Cornelia/Leila/Marrybell/Oldrin. What can I say, I like harems.**

 **If you want to see more of this story, just do the usual follow/favorite/review. It really helps as a writer.**

 **For the impatient, the canon timeline starts in Chapter 4, but certain parts may not make sense without the background chapters. You have been warned.**

 **Without further ado, Code Geass: Darwin...**

Chapter 1: Start of Darkness

The European Union tanks glistened in the moonlight, their engines letting off steam barely visible, like the breath of some sleeping creature. Behind them were two rows of their specialized anti-tank artillery, useless against the might and maneuverability of the upcoming Knightmares. Low-altitude scout craft soared over their heads, mapping out the upcoming battlefield.

The Britannian Glasgows crouched low in their cover—an inkwell, a letter opener, and a row of fountain pens—as they waited to ambush the arrogant Europeans. The Glasgow had the agility to dance around the tanks at close range, but with the three-hundred meter no-man's-land between the two forces, it was best to wait for the EU armor to close the gap first than risk a straight sprint.

The attack had almost begun when Prince Lelouch heard someone moving outside his bedroom door...

He took a guilty step towards his bed—then paused, listening hard. The trees in the famous Ares Villa gardens rustled softly in the breeze, but otherwise the night was silent. The servants would know better than to disturb him. Nunnally had just returned from the hospital after...

It wouldn't do for him to think back on it once again. He'd started running through strategic scenarios specifically to avoid dwelling on the real cause for his insomnia.

Lelouch turned back to his desk, and began to move the EU tanks forward while the artillery hung back to provide suppressing fire in the event the Britannian tanks showed their faces—except there were no tanks. The Knightmares sprung from their cover, extended their close-range batons, and tore in to the unsuspecting tanks. The artillery operators panicked at having the latest Britannian technology released on them, making several ineffectual shots downrange but doing little besides scarring the land. Lelouch grinned broadly. It had taken all night to set up this attack, drawing from Kewell's lessons on how Knightmare Frames would revolutionize battlefield strategy.

And besides, it wasn't like this was time _wasted_. With Mother... gone, Lelouch had no illusions that the Emperor would allow him to stagnate. He would have to prove his worth—such was a tenant of Darwinism. In order for Nunnally to be protected, he would have to know both how to pilot a Knightmare and how to command men.

War was coming, after all.

With the recent annexing of the British Isles by Britannia, a vocal portion of EU politicians were chomping at the bit to defend both their "allies", and more importantly, their financial investments in British industries. It was just a matter of when one of the two powers felt confident enough in their respective stockpiles to strike the first blow. With Britannia finally moving Knightmares to mass fabrication, either the EU would learn of them and attempt to launch a preemptive strike or Britannia would complete them and field them en-masse.

Kewell predicted a rapid seizure of strategic assets within one or two years, with the Knightmares leading the charge.

This was of course the entire reason his mother had advocated against the seizure of the British Isles. She had cut a bloody swathe through Pendragon to put his father on the throne, but she had no desire to go any further than that. It was obvious that such warmongering from Britannia could lead to nothing short of another world war, and she always claimed that she had seen enough blood in her life.

The only thing halting the upcoming war had been his mother's calming hand keeping both sides calm, but with her... gone, Emperor Charles had decided to move forward with the annexation. Now the gears had begun shifting, and wouldn't stop until either Europe or Britannia was in flames.

The last tin Knightmare frame just crashed into the EU artillery when the soft sound came from the hallway once again: jingling, like the ringing of keys.

Lelouch turned, staring at the gap between his bedchamber's double doors. Shadows danced along the walls from the window, and then he heard whispers.

Someone was right outside.

Silent in bare feet, he swiftly crossed the cold marble floor, sliding into bed just as the door creaked open. Lelouch narrowed his eyes to a slit, wondering if Gottwald was checking on him once again. The man had become Lelouch's shadow since his mother... passed, constantly hovering at his shoulder.

Moonlight spilled into the room, making the tin Knightmare on his desk glitter. Someone slipped inside, graceful and dead silent. The figure paused, staring at Lelouch for a moment, then crept toward his dresser. He heard the wooden rasp of a drawer sliding open.

His heart raced. None of the servants would dare steal from him! If there was one thing mother had prided herself on, it was that she attracted loyalty. The servants of the villa would gladly give their lives for hers. None would resort to petty thievery.

But what if the intruder were something worse than a thief? His mother's warnings echoed in his ears… .

 _You have had enemies since the day you were born_.

A bell cord hung next to his bed, but the usual guard stationed outside his mother's room would of course be absent. If Gottwald apparently wasn't outside his room, the closest sentries were quartered at the other end of the trophy hall, fifty meters away.

Lelouch slid one hand under his pillow, until his fingers touched the cold steel of the small blade Schneizel had gifted him. He lay there holding his breath, grasping the handle tightly, repeating to himself Kewell's watchword.

 _Surprise is more valuable than strength._

Another figure came through the door then, boots clomping, a house guard jacket's metal clips jingling like keys on a ring. The figure tromped straight toward his bed.

"Your Highness! Wake up!"

Lelouch let go of the knife, expelling a sigh of relief. It was just Gottwald, his personal bodyguard and Knightmare instructor. The first figure began rifling through the dresser, pulling at clothes.

"The young prince has been awake all along," Count Soresi's low voice said. "A bit of advice, Your Highness? When pretending to be asleep, it is advisable not to hold one's breath."

Lelouch sat up and scowled. His fencing master, strategic tutor, and etiquette teacher had an annoying knack for seeing through deception.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"You're to come with us, Your Highness," Gottwald mumbled, studying the marble floor.

"Why?"

"Instruction," Count Soresi said with the same infuriating tone he used during fencing lessons. He tossed a pair of Lelouch's trousers and a piloting jacket onto the bed. Lelouch stared at them, half outraged and half confused.

"Like young Mozart," Gottwald said softly. "In her Majesty's stories."

Lelouch frowned, remembering mother's favorite tales about the great composer's upbringing. Supposedly Mozart's tutors would wake him in the middle of the night, when his mind was raw and defenseless, and thrust musical lessons upon him. It all sounded rather disrespectful to Lelouch.

He reached for the trousers. "You're going to make me compose a fugue?"

"An amusing thought," Count Soresi said. "But please make haste."

"We have a Knightmare waiting at the usual airport hangar, Your Highness." Gottwald's worried face made an attempt at a smile. "You're to pilot it."

"A Knightmare?" Lelouch's eyes widened. Piloting was one part of his studies he'd gladly get out of bed for. He slipped quickly into the clothes.

"Yes, your first night lesson!" Gottwald said, handing Lelouch his boots.

Lelouch pulled them on and stood, then fetched his favorite pilot's gloves from the dresser, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

"Quietly now." Count Soresi stood by the chamber doors. He cracked them and peered out into the hall.

"We're to sneak out, Your Highness!" Gottwald whispered. "Good fun, this lesson! Just like young Mozart!"

The three of them crept down the trophy hall, Sir Gottwald still clomping, Kewell gliding along in silence. Paintings of Lelouch's ancestors, the family who had ruled Britannia for hundreds of years, lined the hallway, their subjects staring down with unreadable expressions. Every footstep was magnified by the stillness of the villa, and questions echoed in Lelouch's mind.

Wasn't it dangerous, piloting a Knightmare at night? And why was his fencing, strategy, and etiquette teacher coming along? Count Soresi preferred swords and maps over soulless Knightmares, and had little tolerance for only technical nobility like Gottwald. Gottwald had been knighted for his combat prowess, not his family name.

"Kewell …" Lelouch began.

"Quiet, boy!" the count spat.

Anger flashed inside Lelouch, and a curse almost burst from his mouth, even if it ruined their stupid game of sneaking out. It was always like this. To the servants he might be "the young master," but nobles like Kewell never let Lelouch forget his position. Thanks to his mother's common blood, he wasn't fit to hold any place but seventeenth in line to the throne, despite it being common knowledge that his mother had been the Emperor's true love. His father might be ruler of an empire of six hundred million souls, but Lelouch was heir to nothing.

Kewell himself was only a count—nothing but a few farmlands to his name, just a bit of dirt really—but even he could feel superior to the son of a commoner. Lelouch managed to stay quiet, though, letting his anger cool as they stole through the vast and darkened banquet kitchens. Years of insults had taught him how to bite his tongue, and disrespect was easier to swallow with the prospect of piloting ahead.

One day he would have his revenge. Mother had promised. Of course, that was before...

-Break-

By the time they reached the airport in a car Kewell had waiting outside, Lelouch's only concern was tripping in the darkness. The moon was less than half full, and the unlit tarmac stretched like a black sea across the surrounding. At this hour even the lights of Pendragon had died out to a mere inkling.

When Lelouch saw the Knightmare, a soft cry escaped his lips.

It almost stood taller than the cargo plane next to it, its two metal feet standing proud on the concrete of the hangar's floor. It looked like a demonic warrior skulking in the darkness.

This wasn't some training Ganymede or Glasgow—it was a real engine of war. As a matter of fact, he couldn't even pick out what specific model this one was. It resembled a Glasgow, but the chest-piece protruded more, it appeared to be armored more, and it's head was more streamlined with what looked like an advanced factsphere.

Before tonight Lelouch had piloted only unarmed Glasgows and Ganymede training models. Even with his tenth birthday almost here, mother always insisted that he was too young for proper war machines.

"I'm supposed to pilot that?" Lelouch heard his own voice break. "I don't even recognize the model!"

Jeremiah Gottwald's gloved hand patted his shoulder heavily. "Don't worry, young Mozart. It's just a Sutherland. It's a new prototype they just put into pre-production. Essentially, it's a Glasgow with heavier armor and advanced systems. It's to become the new commander unit."

Before Lelouch could reply, another car arrived in the hangar. He heard Kewell begin swearing under his breath.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, looking nervously towards the unknown new arrivals.

This nervousness turned to petrifying fear when he witnessed two members of the House Guard exit the vehicle, one carrying an unconscious Nunnally. The other reached back into the car and removed her wheelchair.

"You were supposed to have already arrived with her," Kewell hissed at the two penitent-looking guards, "You've ruined the timetable."

One of them looked up, embarrassed, "The chloroform wore off midway through the drive and she started struggling, my Lord. We had to pull over and reapply it. Should have figured that after that lengthy stint in the hospital that drugs would have less effect on her..."

Lelouch took an involuntary step backwards, bumping into Gottwald. He looked up into the face of his protector, shocked to see that he was doing nothing to apprehend two men who had just admitted to drugging Nunnally.

Once again, his mother's words rang in his head.

 _You have had enemies since the day you were born_.

 _Mozart._ He'd been lured out here in the dead of night, willingly bypassing the loyal House Guard, by an analogy to _Mozart_.

He was an idiot.

Looking about that hangar, he began calculating possible escape routes. Unfortunately, none of them allowed him to both bypass Kewell, Gottwald, and the two guard while also rescuing Nunnally. It didn't matter in the end, as he felt one of Gottwald's steel-like hands come down on his shoulder as the other brought a rag that smelled like chemicals over his nose.

As his consciousness started fading, he could just barely make out a soft, " _Apologies, Your Highness._ "

-Break-

Lelouch awoke with a start to find the stoic face of Dr. Thomas Asplund hovering over him. Why was the Ares Villa's in-house physician in his bedroom? Had he fallen ill? It wasn't until his eyes focused on the unfamiliar ceiling and he caught a remnant odor of that foul-smelling chloroform that he remembered his kidnapping. His eyes darted about, trying to both grasp his location and how to escape it, but a calming hand from Thomas brought his attention back to the man hovering over him.

"Calm yourself, your highness. I'm simply ensuring that the drug has no lingering effects. I assure you, you're completely safe and in the hands of allies."

Despite his suspicion of the situation, Lelouch couldn't help but let his tightened muscles relax slightly at the man's words. Dr. Asplund had always possessed an impeccable beside manner, able to calm even the most anxious of patients. He'd been at Nunnally's bedside when she awoke to discover both her blindness and lameness. Aside from some tears shed, he'd kept her from falling into total despair.

If that same man was involved in this whole affair, he could at least trust that it wasn't entirely malevolent. Dr. Asplund rose, straightening his white coat and smiling down softly.

"I'll let the Count know you're awake. He'll explain things."

As the doctor left he room, Lelouch took a moment to gather his bearings. His head was still somewhat foggy from the chloroform, but from the large ramp and humming of engines, he deduced that he was in the enormous cargo plane that had been parked in the hangar. It was a good kidnapping, he figured, as far as kidnapping can be considered good. The St. Darwin Airport was one of the few places near Pendragon that someone could pilot a Knightmare, so luring someone out there with one and then forcing them into a plane was rather efficient.

As a matter of fact, it seemed precisely Kewell's brand of efficient.

Speaking of the Devil, Kewell came strolling back in with Dr. Asplund on his left and Gottwald on his right. He pulled over a small chair that Asplund had been occupying earlier and sat himself down in it. Lelouch stared at him for a moment, unable to read the Count's expression.

"It's time for an explanation, then," Kewell began.

Lelouch chuckled at the understatement. What they were doing was treason. Worthless to the Emperor or not, his father would still have these men drawn and quartered on mere _principle_ if it got out that they'd kidnapped an Imperial Prince.

"I should think so..."

His instructor abesntly stroked his goatee with one hand as he seemed to struggle with how to put what he was about to say.

"Your mother," he finally decided, "she made preparations in case... what she feared finally occurred."

Lelouch narrowed his eyes—he was in no mood for Kewell's usual word games.

"In case _what_ occurred?" he demanded. His patience for this entire ordeal was wearing thin. He was still only tentatively sure that this was not a genuine abduction, only assured of that by Gottwald and Asplund's involvement. Dr. Asplund didn't seem the sort to be swayed by offers of money or power. Rumor was that the man was an unparalleled biologist, but had given up dozens of career opportunities that would have made him a millionaire to instead become the lowly in-house physician of the Ares Villa. Gottwald's loyalty to both Lelouch and his mother was also unmatched. He'd personally seen the man gun down two dozen kidnappers that thought taking him for ransom would be a good idea.

Kewell sighed, "It would be best to wait for your sister to get hear. This pertains to her as well." As he spoke, one of the House Guards rounded the large pallet obstructing Lelouch's view of the rest of the cargo plane, pushing a wheelchair containing his sister.

"Nunnally," he whispered and exhaled in relief. His sister was alright.

"Lelouch?" she asked, looking around. Her hearing had certainly become more keen since... the incident. "Are you there? Are you alright? Where are we?"

Instinctively, Lelouch sprung out of his cot, but the sudden movement caused his head to start spinning and he collapsed about a foot from it. Gottwald immediately rushed over and lifted him back up gently.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" he asked. Lelouch brushed him off and stumbled back to his feet, making his way over to Nunnally as he ignored the constant wooziness.

Dr. Asplund clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "It's not a good idea to be moving so soon Your Highness. Not until the drug has fully worn off."

Lelouch barely heard the man as he scanned every inch of Nunnally to ensure that she was unharmed. Her hands groped blindly at his face, feeling it and reassuring herself that it was him.

He took her hand and started tracing circles on the back of it with his thumb, "I'm right here Nunnally. Right here. Everything is going to be okay."

At his words, she slumped in her wheelchair, the tantrum that had obviously been building up swiftly dissipating.

"Where are we?" she asked, tilting her head to and fro as she tried to decipher the unfamiliar sounds surrounding her.

Count Soresi took this as his cue, "A plane, Your Highness—bound for Japan."

"Japan?"

Kewell nodded, although that was lost on Nunnally, "Yes. Japan is one of the last few countries on the planet that remains unaligned with one of the three superpowers."

"Why?" Lelouch demanded, "Why did we suddenly need to visit Japan?"

"We're not visiting, Your Highness," Kewell replied with a voice belittling Lelouch's deductive capabilities. "We're fleeing your mother's assassins."

Lelouch glared, "You're lying. Mother's assassins were caught and executed. They were pro-EU terrorists."

"Think about it, Your Highness. Why would EU terrorists kill the one woman keeping Britannia from invading the EU? It makes no sense," Kewell prodded.

"You can hardly expect terrorists to act rationally," Lelouch shot back.

"That's an excuse and you know it, Your Highness. I taught you better than that. Think critically—who would benefit most from your mother's death?"

Lelouch racked his brain, but only one logically sound conclusion arose. "Someone that wanted war between Britannia and the EU. Someone pushing hard for it, but being impeded by mother."

"Good, Your Highness. Now, who does that fit the most? Someone with the power to not only have mother killed, but also make it look like EU sympathizers? And who would benefit from a sudden overwhelming outcry from the commoners over their Empress being killed by the EU?"

The answer immediately came to Lelouch, but he wanted to deny it. It couldn't be. He knew the Emperor was harsh, but assassinating his wife simply to push forward another war?

He didn't want to accept it, but yes, that did seem the sort of thing his father would do. The man only valued people for the value they offered to him. If someone ceased to actively benefit them, he had no qualms about discarding them in an advantageous fashion.

Kewell looked down at him with a slight look of sympathy marring his usually scornful features. "You see it, don't you, Your Highness? With your mother assassinated by EU terrorists, it paved the way perfectly for the war. The common soldiers all rallied around their dead empress. Army recruitment is the highest it's been in decades."

"That..." Nunnally interjected, "that _can't_ be true. The Emperor loved mother, right?"

Lelouch just sighed as he squeezed Nunnally's hand. He'd never had the heart to tell her just what sort of man their father was. As far as she was concerned, the reason she'd only spoken to the Emperor twice in her life was that the man kept himself so busy running the nation. Instead, the truth was coming out—their father simply didn't _care_ , not about any of his children until they proved their worth to him.

"No," he finally confessed to his sister, "he didn't. Not really. Or perhaps he did in his own twisted way. To be entirely frank, I'm not sure which is worse. Mother and I did our best to keep it from you, Nunnally, but you've never truly seen what our father is like."

Nunnally broke down, unable to reconcile her image of a distant but caring father with the heartless monster Kewell and her brother were portraying for her. It ended up being a solid half-hour before they could calm her down enough to continue their explanations.

"So if the Emperor, "Lelouch decided at the moment Nunnally shed a tear over the man's actions that he would never refer to the man as "father" again, "had mother... dealt with, why are we just now leaving Pendragon?" It seemed incongruous. If the Emperor had done away with mother, Gottwald wouldn't stand for it. It wasn't in his protector's character.

Lelouch took a small dash of pride in being able to spot the briefest flash of shame of Kewell's typically unreadable face before it vanished.

"We were blinded by the same cover story as you, Your Highness. We were only informed of the true nature of the assassination days ago. We spent the remainder of the time preparing to escape. Your mother feared the worst may occur, and set up a safehouse in Japan."

The evasive answer was not lost on Lelouch, "Informed by _who_?"

"I'm afraid that would be me, Your Highness," Dr. Asplund interjected with his calm and steady voice. Supposedly the man had an older brother who specialized in mechanics, and was the polar antithesis of Thomas' stoic demeanor. Lelouch shuddered to meet the infamous Lloyd Asplund. "I had my own... personal suspicions regarding your mother's demise. I pulled some stings to have her autopsy files pulled, and noted that they had been rather shoddily doctored. Through judicious blackmail and some other unpleasant means, I acquired the original copy of the file, which indicated towards a professional Britannian assassin team."

Lelouch gave Dr. Asplund a wary look. He knew the man was experienced, but he didn't want to know what kind of medical training the man had that he could easily identify the indicators of one of the infamous Britannian silencer squads. The knowing yet detached way he said _unpleasant means_ alsosent shivers down his spine.

"With this startling information, I thought of who I could definitively trust. Gottwald and Soresi immediately came to mind. When they learned of the information, they enacted your mother's security plans. The House Guard signed on as well."

"How many?"

"All of them," Gottwald answered with a hint of pride in his voice, "well, all twenty that served under your mother. The other ten or so that replaced the ones killed in the attack couldn't be trusted."

Lelouch's eyes widened at the number. He was a bit awed that twenty men he didn't even know the names of would willingly abandon their country and lives in order to protect him. Of course, there was also the logistics of housing and feeding twenty men—plus the additional expenses of himself, Nunnally, Gottwald, Kewell, and Asplund.

"How can we afford this? I can see mother setting aside an emergency fund for such an occasion, but her assets were frozen during the investigation. They wouldn't be accessible."

Kewell smirked, rising from his chair and approaching one of the massive tarp-covered pallets that filled the center of the cargo plane.

"Did your mother ever tell you that after the Ashfords helped her rise into the Emperor's favor, she invested billions into their foundation? Of course, they held the stock in their own names but the money was there. With their development of the Glasgow Knightmare Frame, which has just received a near-trillion pound order, they are now quite the wealthy individuals."

Lelouch nodded, the Ashfords were long-standing allies of the Lamperouge family, politically and financially. As the inventors of the Knightmare, they were now wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. Of course, this came from the war caused by his mothers... untimely passing. He didn't hold suspicions for the Ashfords, though. Reuben Ashford had been the closest thing he had to a grandfather, and Milly his best friend.

His heart ached, as it slowly sunk in that he might never play with Euphy, Cornelia, Schneizel, Clovis, or Milly ever again—Hell, he might never _see_ them again. Never again would he hear Milly call him that detestable nickname. Never again would he confidently decide that _this_ was the chess game where he would best Schneizel. Never again would Nunnally and Euphy get in an argument over which of them would get to marry him, not understanding the adult implications of what they were saying.

Kewell's voice sprung him back out of the dark hole his thoughts were descending into, "Economics lesson, Lelouch. When major empires go to war, what happens to the price of rare commodities?"

"The price is jacked up as global investors seek a tangible investment to protect their money," Lelouch answered automatically. It took him a moment to process, and then his eyes widened in understanding.

Kewell's smirk was starting to look painful as he pulled the tarp off one of the pallets and opened one of the many crates underneath. Inside were _stacks_ of gold bullion. He opened another to reveal the glittering and unmistakable sheen of diamonds packed into foam casings.

"As we said, Your Highness, your mother made arrangements."

-Break-

The safehouse was... not quite what Lelouch was expecting. He expected an isolated farmhouse or some God-forsaken cabin in the jungle. Instead, he was confronted with a rather sprawling, if run-down, estate. It even had a patch of open ground just large enough to land the cargo plane, even if the pilot was cutting it a bit close.

As the ramp lowered, the House Guards were out first, rifles raised. They had failed their empress once already—they would not allow her children to be taken in an ambush. Once they cleared the ramp, one of them piloted out the pre-production Sutherland, using the advanced factsphere to sweep the surroundings for snipers and the like. Only when all scans came up negative did the others exit.

Lelouch stepped off the ramp, Gottwald at his right shoulder and Count Soresi leading the way towards the estate building. Dr. Asplund followed behind, pushing Nunnally's wheelchair.

"What does it look like, Lelouch?" she asked in a soft voice. Lelouch almost started when she spoke. Ever since the initial outburst on the plane, she'd been unusually silent. Perhaps with mother... gone, she'd held on to the idea that she had at least one parent left, even if a distant one—now that hope was shattered. The two of them really were the last of their family.

He paused a moment as he formulated a response to her question. To be honest, the safehouse was very well set up. It looked like an abandoned nobleman's estate, with a crumbling perimeter wall covered in ivory, and blackout boards covering the windows. The small courtyard was overrun with weeds and the paint was peeling all along the house.

Of course, appearances were deceiving. His mother had commissioned this safehouse, after all. It was well placed, near a road but not a main one. They'd see next to no traffic. The perimeter wall was, although crumbling, still functional—no holes were exposed, the sole gate looked to be reinforced, and he could see slight hints of support beams embedded within the stone to strengthen it. The untamed ivory along the top of the walls, upon an enlightened examination, concealed camouflaged yet deadly razor wire. The dilapidated exterior of the house combined with the blackout boards would ensure that nobody would expect the house to be occupied.

Of course, none of this translated well to a blind girl hoping for a beautiful new home. Instead, as they approached the house, he fabricated a painting of a fairytale dreamscape: Strong, safe walls, a noble and grand chateau, open land around for miles just perfect for rolling around in, flowers of all kinds littering the fields.

Any guilt he felt at the deception evaporated as he saw his sister smile for the first time since their rapid egress from Pendragon.

-Break-

The interior of the house was, fortunately, much better than the original. After unlocking the half-dozen various locks on the front door, the House Guards swept the place for squatters. Upon finding none, the rest followed in. Aside from the lack of natural light, it was really quite pleasant. Apparently, the house was still tapped into the local power lines, so electricity was not a problem. Once the breakers were flipped and a few burnt-out bulbs replaced, it was fully illuminated.

Marianne's hand in commissioning the house could definitely be felt as it reminded Lelouch greatly of the Ares Villa. The decor was certainly along the same themes as his former home. It was a shame that the need for the house to appear unoccupied prevented the making of a garden. Nunnally would have loved one for sure.

At least this time he didn't have to exaggerate the house's positive qualities to Nunnally. She seemed genuinely delighted to hear him describe their surroundings. She giggled when he took on the tone of a real estate agent describing the various amenities, hamming it up as he tried to pitch the mansion to her. Gottwald smiled at seeing him lure his sister out of her melancholy mood.

Honestly, the only real downside of the house was that it was not designed to be wheelchair accessible, first causing problems when Kewell led them down to measure the estate's resource stockpile. Gottwald had to carry Nunnally while Lelouch folded and carried her wheelchair down.

Lelouch was rather impressed by his mother's sense of forethought. There was enough preserved food, water, and fuel for the generators to outlast a multi-year siege. Thanks to the heavy, reinforced door and thick concrete walls, the enormous basement also doubled as a panic room and fallout shelter. They'd have to buy some supplies from the locals of course, but that shouldn't raise too much suspicion. Britannians had interests in every nation on Earth, after all. The presence of a few was hardly cause for notice.

As he and Nunnally were rather jet-lagged, he quickly fixed food for himself and her. Gottwald, Kewell, Asplund, and the rest could handle food on their own time. Perhaps when he had sufficient time, he would fix a meal for all of them, but he could visibly see Nunnally's exhaustion. He excused them from the examination of the house escorted her upstairs. Gottwald followed at his shoulder, only parting to assist him in carrying Nunnally to the second floor.

Lelouch briefly considered setting Nunnally up in her own room, but as if sensing his thought she requested to sleep with him instead. After the day they'd had, he couldn't blame her—so he placed her gently on the bed in the Master bedroom. Changing into his bedclothes, he slid in next to her, running a comforting hand over her sandy hair. One of her hands blindly groped towards him, until it finally found his hand. Her grip was unyielding, her forcefulness attesting to just how scared she really was. Lelouch had no comfort to give but to squeeze back.

-Break-

For the third time that night, Nunnally had a nightmare. She had started out fitfully tossing and turning, working her way up before eventually devolving into screams and hysterical sobs that had Gottwald and five other guards busting in with guns drawn at every incident. Lelouch would immediately dismiss them and return to consoling his sobbing sister.

Seeing his sister—the living incarnation of kindness and compassion—reduced to this state by the Emperor, Lelouch felt his blood burn. Nunnally had always been the focus of his life, from the day mother first brought her home from the hospital and let him hold her he'd sworn that he would do everything in his power to make her happy.

And the Emperor had slowly burnt that promise—that dream, to ashes around him.

The image of his sister lying broken on a hospital bed, barely clinging on to life had permanently etched itself into his memory. All of it was because of the Emperor. Schneizel had often read to him famous classics centered around revenge, such as _Hamlet_ or _The Count of Monte Cristo_. He perhaps wondered if the fire coursing through his veins was what those famous paragons felt as they started down the path of darkness.

Another crack of thunder shook the estate as a raging storm hammered Japan. Driven by unseen specters, Lelouch slid out of bed and made his way to the large, blacked-out window. With a slight heave, he moved the blackout board aside and stared into the heart of the whirling tempest surrounding his stronghold.

" _Appropriate,_ " he thought. Of course, the great epics of revenge seldom ended well for the protagonist. Perhaps he was better likened to _Faust_ , a man who sold himself to evil to pursue his own goals. The details of the tale varied, with some versions ending with Faust being dragged to Hell by Mephistopheles, while others have the wily Faust outwitting the Devil himself and leaving with both his prize and payment. Britannia, being a nation the idolized greatness, of course propagated the version of the tale ending with man conquering some pseudo-mystical force. Lelouch had always preferred it himself as well.

As Lelouch observed the wrath of a nature assault the countryside, something changed in him. It was as if the water pouring from the heavens were washing away the accumulated layers of boyhood and youth. Whatever naivety he possessed—whatever innocence, it was gone. Left behind was a cold shell of pragmatism. Highlighted by his sisters quiet sobs and the crash of thunder, Lelouch's course was set.

The Emperor would burn, but not quickly. His nation would crumble, his supporters would die or abandon him, his touted Social Darwinism would be turned against him as a greater evil engulfed him. As his world burned and he laid on his knees in the ashes, he would gaze up to cry against the gods and instead lay eyes upon the architect of his destruction: Lelouch.

He would bide his time, gather strength, and wait for an opportunity to present itself. With the approaching war with the EU, Lelouch knew that Britannia would commit some tactical error, likely over the deployment of Knightmares. Some weakness would be exploitable. He would just have to wait a few years.

-Break-

It was two years later that Lelouch was awoken in the middle of the night by an aerial bombardment. He'd gone to bed exhausted after a full day of history lessons from Kewell, science from Dr. Asplund, and worst of all, physical education with Gottwald. Fanatically loyal as the man was, he was an absolute taskmaster in his capacity as an instructor.

Still, he if he was to bring down his home country, he could not afford to be complacent. He had to strive and improve, especially for Nunnally's sake. The world the Emperor wished to bring about was not one that would tolerate weakness—not one that would tolerate his beloved sister. She was the only family he had left in the world, and he would bring it to its knees before letting it call her worthless.

The pre-dawn explosions shook the manor, causing Lelouch to fall out of bed. Still dressed in his night clothes, he resisted the immediate urge to remove the blackout board from the window to peer outside. If the place was being bombed, the last thing needed in the early morning was for the house to look occupied. He had to check on Nunnally and get then get everyone downstairs.

He dashed out of his room, not bothering to change. Sliding to a halt outside his sister's door, he threw it open to find Gottwald already inside, setting Nunnally into her wheelchair. Gottwald threw a brief nod, which Lelouch returned. Lelouch was somewhat self-sufficient, but Nunnally would require help to evacuate.

"What's happening, Lelouch?" the still-sleepy Nunnally mumbled. She had always being a heavy sleeper, and she hadn't been following the news as closely as Lelouch and the others. Britannia had been hitting Japan with increasingly absurd trade demands, clearly trying to provoke a war as an excuse to secure the nation's Sakuradite deposits to support the recently-declared war with the EU. Expecting an imminent invasion, Lelouch, Kewell, and Gottwald had spent the last several weeks gradually moving all signs of habitation into the basement. Only the beds remained on the above floors, as they were too large to move and had been there anyway.

"War has come, Nunnally."

As Lelouch, Nunnally, and Gottwald rounded the corner leading to the stairs, they encountered Kewell, Dr. Asplund, and four House Guards—all fully dressed—running to meet them.

"We should get to the basement, Your Highness," Kewell said as another explosion shook the manor, much closer this time. Lelouch couldn't argue with Kewells logic, and led the way to the reinforced door of the cellar. Gottwald picked up Nunnally with ease and Lelouch grabbed her chair, neither even breaking stride as they descended into the bunker. Several of the house guards were already down there, setting up cots or monitoring the radio for pertinent news.

Soon, all but four of the guards were downstairs—the last four performing a full sweep of the manor to ensure all signs of habitation were erased. Once they made it down and gave the all clear, Kewell slid the heavy metal door shut and spun the dial locking it in place.

Dr. Asplund went over and started up the small bank of computers rigged up to the series of hidden cameras monitoring the exterior of the mansion. Several feeds had been knocked offline, but thanks to redundancies in the system there were no full blindspots along the approach to the manor.

Few cameras had enough of an upward angle to view the sky, but through those that did Lelouch could see flocks of bombers raining indiscriminate bombing down on the local countryside. He felt a small shudder of emotion as he calculated the bombing area and realized that they were directly over the nearby town of Nakagawa. Most of the manor's supplies were purchased there, and Lelouch had been on several trips into there—some with Nunnally. Under the guise of tourists, the locals had been exceedingly polite even with the rising Britannian/Japanese tensions.

He just prayed that enough of a warning had reached them before the invasion that they'd managed to mostly evacuate, but he knew that it was an empty hope. Britannia had long ago adopted the German Blitzkrieg tactic, launching brutal surprise attacks designed to infiltrate enemy lines before an alarm could be raised. No warning would have gotten out, especially this close to the coast.

After getting Nunnally set up on a cot, he placed a pair of headphones loaded with soft classical music over her ears. There was no reason for forcing her to listen to the sounds of the countryside being slaughtered.

Lelouch meanwhile pulled up a chair and dragged it next to Asplund, who looked down at him with a disapproving but understanding expression. The young man put a single hand of support on Lelouch's shoulder as they continued to monitor the screens.

It was going to be a long night.

-Break-

The next few days in the bunker were torture for Lelouch. The invasion had mostly passed them over, with only a lone Britannian squad backed by a Glasgow giving the manor a rushed and cursory search before departing. When the X marking had been spray-painted over their door indicating to further Britannian patrols that the house was clear of occupants, everyone inside let out a sigh of relief. Dr. Asplund, Kewell, and Gottwald had already celebrated by getting the first full-night's sleep in days, but Lelouch couldn't sleep.

Over the past few days, through the cameras, they'd seen two groups of fleeing Japanese families gunned down by Britannian Knightmares. Lelouch had demanded to go out and look for survivors, but for once Gottwald and Kewell had managed to agree on something and forbade it. As loyal as Gottwald was, he still blamed himself for Marianne's death, and stubbornly refused any action that would endanger his two remaining charges.

But now, Kewell and Gottwald were asleep, and Lelouch was watching the cameras alone. Through the low lighting provided by the full moon, he spotted a Britannian squad rushing by on foot. The cameras didn't have microphones to hear them, but he could see that they were performing a search for someone in the nearby woods. They were visibly frustrated about something, likely an inability to find their target.

Several tense minutes passed as the soldiers combed the woods, but eventually they decided to move on. Lelouch let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding that they didn't find whoever they'd been chasing. He didn't need to sit helpless as another innocent was shot down before him.

As his eyelids drooped with exhaustion, he almost missed the image of someone slipping down from a tree.

His exhaustion faded away to nothingness at the sight of this individual collapse against the trunk of a large tree, partially hidden by the nearby shrubbery. Lelouch tapped a few controls on the keyboard controlling the cameras and zoomed the one viewing that section of the woods in as far as it would go.

The fleeing individual—a teenage Japanese woman, it seemed—was panting in exhaustion. She touched her stomach and flinched, drawing away her hand. In the faint moonlight, Lelouch could make out that it was soaked red. She was out in these woods in the middle of an invasion, wounded and alone; it looked like she was on her last legs. Either she would bleed out during the night or that Britannian patrol would come back in the daylight and finish the job.

Regardless, the outcome was this innocent dying.

" _Don't do it,_ " he could hear Kewell's voice warning in his head, " _You'll be jeopardizing everyone here if you do. Think of Nunnally._ "

He glanced in his sister's direction, where she was still sleeping fitfully. Her most common nightmares these days were about the incident that cost her vision and mobility—the incident where she'd been shot repeatedly and left to die by Britannian assassins...

He was thinking of Nunnally, and of what she would want him to do. If he could keep this young woman from dying, it would be the smallest step towards creating the world she deserved.

His decision made, he crept as quietly as he could towards the section of the basement containing the supplies—haphazardly stacked next to the pallets of rare goods they'd shipped in on the cargo plane they later stripped down and sold to a scrapyard. The Sutherland Knightmare frame they'd brought on the plane was still in the woods under several camouflage tarps.

After several seconds of searching, Lelouch finally found one of the many medical kits stored in the basement. Dr. Asplund had been teaching him basic medical treatment, and Lelouch felt confident enough to at least patch up a gunshot wound. As an afterthought, he also tucked a silenced pistol in his waistband. Gottwald had made a point of ensuring his marksmanship by taking him on several hunting trips in the forest. Lelouch had little doubt about his skill with firearms.

On silent feet, Lelouch crept up the stairs and cracked open the bunker door, which was mercifully on well-oiled hinges. The night air was frigid as he exited the manor and made his way for the woods. He stopped at the edge of the road, hunkering down and searching to the left and right. When he couldn't see any movement, he dashed across the opening and into the security of the small embankment the marked the entrance of the forest. Evidently, he wasn't being as silent as he thought he was when he saw the girl against the tree tense.

She reached into the sleeve of her black outfit, likely for a weapon of some sort, but the movement caused her to jerk in pain and she gave up. Lelouch could see the fight leave her eyes as she visibly resigned herself to death. He stood up and moved into her line of sight, holding up his free hand to show that he meant no harm. Her eyes narrowed at his classical Britannian features, before widening to confusion at both his age and the medical kit in his hand.

" _Britannian?_ " she asked in Japanese. Lelouch's Japanese was rough, as he rarely spoke to anyone outside the manor, but he and Nunnally had listened to enough Japanese radio together to at least understand it.

" _Britannian,_ " he confirmed in Japanese, before once again indicating towards his hands and the medical kit to show his sincerity, " _Friend. Help._ "

She looked him up and down, and he felt her gaze seep into his being. They were the eyes of a killer, he realized, and he barely resisted the urge to finger the pistol in his waistband.

" _Friend,_ " she finally agreed, letting go of the tension she'd been holding. Lelouch took that as his cue to kneel down next to her and open the medical kit. He took a cursory examination of her wounds, Dr. Asplund's voice in his head narrating the physical audit.

" _Numerous lacerations along the extremities, likely from running through the wilderness for extended periods of time while being chased. Disinfect and bind. Twisted ankle; compress with ice and elevate. Numerous abdominal gunshot wounds; carefully remove metal fragments, disinfect, and stitch shut until better medical treatment can be sought."_

The gunshot injuries seemed the most pressing, so he began with them. Knowing that what he was about to do would be painful and not wanting to alert that Britannian patrol if it was still skulking about, he removed a pad of gauze and motioned for her to bite it.

At her raised eyebrow, he answered, " _Pain,_ " and she nodded in understanding.

He started with the tweezers, dousing them in alcohol to disinfect them before using a lighter in the kit to burn it off. It was difficult to see in the low-light, but he didn't want to risk a flashlight in case the soldiers spotted it.

The next fifteen minutes were grueling, as he excruciatingly removed every bullet fragment he could find in this woman's abdomen, not particularly helped by being unable to convey more than simple instructions into Japanese. He'd gotten about three-quarters through when he felt her tense, and a twig snap a second later. He cursed; Gottwald or Kewell must have noticed his absence.

"Well, well, well," came a voice accompanied by the telltale sound of several safeties clicking off, and Lelouch froze in horror, "what have we here?"

Four flashlights clicked on in time with Lelouch's slow turning around, but the blinding glare didn't keep him from making out the Britannian squad with assault rifles trained on him.

"Looks like I owe you ten pounds, James," the sergeant said, "thought this bitch slipped by us. Turns out she was just hiding like the rat she is. But what's a lost little Britannian boy doing here? Aiding the enemy, it seems. You aren't the son of some Eleven-lover, are you?"

Lelouch gulped, moving to shield the teenage girl behind him with his body, "My name is Alan Spencer, my father is a Duke."

The squad members shifted, but the sergeant called his bluff, "Let me see your I.D then, boy."

"It's in my back pocket."

At the soldier's sneer and nod, Lelouch reached for the silenced handgun in his waistband. He was quick on the draw, and the soldiers likely wouldn't be expecting someone his age to be armed. He'd be able to drop at least one—maybe to if he was lucky before they finished him off. Might provide enough of a distraction for the girl to flee, but that was unlikely. She was wounded and the adrenaline had long worn off.

Her hand brushed his leg and he turned back to see silent thanks in her eyes for what he'd attempted to do for her—even as she resigned herself once again to death.

No, Lelouch wouldn't let that happen. This wasn't how he was going to die, gunned down by soldiers in the wilderness. Even if it was, he wasn't going down without taking at least one of these bastards with him.

He flicked the safety off the gun—and started slowly pulling it out of his waistband—when two silenced shots rang out. With precision accuracy, they dropped the two soldiers on the flanks of the squad. The remaining two spun around, rifles raised to confront the threat. Lelouch didn't let the opportunity go to waste as he drew his own gun and placed a bullet in both of their skulls.

The sudden silence in the cold night air was one of the most intense Lelouch had ever experienced, before the bushes rustled and a furious Kewell Soresi emerged next to Gottwald. Four members of the House Guard accompanied them with their assault rifles, along with Dr. Asplund.

"Kewell—" he started.

" _Don't you **dare** try to justify this, Your Highness,_" Kewell _hissed_ at him, " _Your sister has a nightmare, wakes up to find you for comfort, and finds out that you are **gone** , running around the woods and jeopardizing everything we've worked for—and you try to justify it?_"

"She was wounded—dying!" he retorted, "I wasn't going to watch over the cameras as a woman _died_ in front of me, a hundred yards from where I was. You may be willing to hide safe in our little bunker, but I'm not!"

"You still don't get it, do you? This is about more than _you,_ Your Highness. Do you realize what you are? You are a greater symbol than you realize. To the commoners of Britannia, you are a symbol of hope, of rising above their station and becoming something greater than what the nobility deigns for them. You are the blazing symbol of everything the Emperor stands against. Gottwald, Asplund, myself, _twenty_ soldier's of your mother's guard, we have all abandoned our lives, families, and fortunes to keep you safe, Your Highness, because we _believe_ in what you stand for, and what you can become. And you want to throw all that away to help some girl in the woods?!"

Lelouch was stunned by the man's words, not having taken into account the sheer gravity of what being the Commoner Empress' surviving son would actually mean to the average citizen. It didn't make him regret his actions, however.

"How long do you think I will remain a symbol if I duck my head into a bunker every time something dangerous happens? If I wish to see there world changed, I must change it."

" _Not if it puts you in danger,_ " Kewell argued.

"'There is nothing more difficult to plan, more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous than the bringing about of change.' You taught me that, Kewell, or were you just reciting platitudes?" Lelouch demanded.

Kewell's face contorted into anger at having one of his lessons turned back against him, before he seemed to regain control of it.

"We will discuss this further at the manor, Your Highness—where I can scream at you without fear of bringing down half the military on our heads," he finally concluded with a voice promising a lecture of god-like proportions, accompanied by hours of grueling fencing drills.

"What about her?" Lelouch asked, pointing the the Japanese woman he'd been treating, who had been watching their argument in pained silence and confusion.

"What do you think?" Kewell sneered, "She's been treated enough to survive. She can go on her merry way for all I bloody care."

Lelouch glared, before turning to Asplund, "She's been shot five times, is suffering a twisted ankle and numerous lacerations. I've not even finished removing the bullet shards. If I don't finish removing them and stitch it, she'll bleed out within an hour. She certainly can't move."

Dr. Asplund narrowed his eyes at Kewell, before kneeling down to take his own examination of the woman's wounds. With a sigh, he turned to two of the House Guards.

"Pick her up," he ordered.

"Belay that," Kewell ordered back.

Dr. Asplund glared at the Count, "His Highness is correct. This woman won't survive past the hour if we leave her. She'll die."

"Then let her die," Kewell ordered harshly, "If she sees the inside of the safehouse, our entire position will be compromised. Everything we've worked for since leaving Pendragon will be for nothing."

Lelouch glared at Kewell as well, but felt he was too emotional to formulate a proper argument against his instructor. Fortunately, Dr. Asplund did it for him.

"You know His Highness will never allow that. You swore an oath to Her Majesty, same as I did—same as all of us did. Our lives and loyalty belong to Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally. Are you saying you'll violate that oath?"

The air stilled in the tension, and the four House Guards along with Gottwald stiffened. Kewell glanced towards them, before seeing that he had lost the argument, "You know I won't, Thomas _._ However, I was also charged above all else with keeping His Highness protected. I _will_ disobey him if that's what it takes to keep him alive."

That didn't seem to sit well with Gottwald or the House Guards, as they continued to shoot Kewell suspicious glares as one of them scooped up the Japanese teenager.

"I understand you logic," Dr. Asplund stated, "but the damage has already been done. When the sun rises and these bodies are discovered, they'll know that our location is compromised anyway. Our only recourse if packing up to leave as soon as possible."

"We don't have the vehicles to stealthily move the valuables in that safehouse," Kewell argued, "It would be better to bury the bodies."

Lelouch shook his head, his strategic mind finally entering the conversation, "Britannian soldiers are fitted with G.P.S trackers. Once they go offline, they'll start scouring the area and eventually find us. What we do have is a Sutherland and a Count. They've just started inducting the Sutherland as the elite commander unit of the Britannian army. No knight would dare stop a convoy of trucks escorted by one. We could disguise ourselves as a logistics caravan and relocate."

Both Asplund and Kewell turned to him in shock, as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"That..." Kewell thought hesitantly, before sighing, "that could work."

"Let's head back then," Lelouch ordered, indicating towards the woman he'd rescued, "before she bleeds out."

-Break-

To say that the last few days had been rough for the sixteen year old Sayoko Shinozaki would be an understatement she would likely have killed whoever spoke it over. When the Britannian bombers had first struck their mountainous clan hold, half of the infamous Shinozaki clan had been killed, and the other half scattered when special helicopters began dropping in those unholy metal abominations.

Among the dead was her own mother, the head of the Shinozaki clan. As heir, it had been her duty to regather her sisters, cousins, and all other women of the Shinozaki clan—to rebuild it.

Then she had slipped up, missed the signs of an incoming group of soldiers. She'd managed to kill twelve of them before running out of kunai, and another four with her bare hands before they'd put enough bullets into her to force a retreat.

They'd chased her doggedly for days through the various wildernesses of Japan, alternating squads so that her pursuers would remain fresh while she grew increasingly weary and tired. During the chase, she'd been clipped twice more with bullets, and a failed attempt to leap over a creak had resulted in a twisted ankle. On the third day, late in the night, she could feel her strength fading.

She'd managed enough of a lead on her pursuers that she leapt into a tree and concealed herself as best she could. Deep down inside, she knew that she would not survive this night. Even if her pursuers didn't kill her, her steadily dripping injuries would. She held her breath as the patrol passed, despite the pain it caused her bruised ribs. It wasn't until they were long past that she released it. Her descent from the tree was less a descent and more a controlled fall as she collapsed against its trunk. The fight had gone out of her, but she comforted herself that at least this way she wouldn't die at the hands of the Britannians.

Just as she felt herself fading from consciousness, she heard the faint sound of someone moving. Her eyes snapped open to scan the perimeter around her, and her eyes locked with a silhouette in the moonlight. She reached into the sleeve of her garment to retrieve the last keepsake of her mother—an inscribed kunai that marked her position as heir to the clan—when it finally stuck her that it wouldn't matter. She would die here regardless of whether she killed this Britannian. She would still be a failure.

Then, the silhouette did something unexpected; it held up its empty hand in a gesture of peace, while the other was holding some sort of briefcase. Was this some fellow Japanese refugee?

But when the figure stepped fully into the moonlight, she saw him for what he was. He looked to be a few years younger than her, but was unmistakably a Britannian. On the case he held was a red cross, the universal sign of a first-aid kit.

She was very confused, but she decided to play it safe and play to be exactly what she appeared to be. Her training in assassination involved infiltration, so she spoke fluent Britannian, but she spoke in Japanese anyway.

" _Britannian?_ "

The boy seemed to shudder under her gaze, something understandable given her profession, but finally nodded and repeated his nationality. He wasn't half-Japanese then, either, if he identified as Britannian but was helping a Japanese. It seemed he didn't speak Japanese either, from his broken attempt at explaining his intentions to render first aid.

At her consent, the boy began expertly assessing and cataloging her wounds. She took the opportunity to examine the boy in full. He was tall for his age, thin too—albeit with the very beginnings of muscular definition. From the way he was checking her over for injuries, he was highly educated, which would fit with his obvious noble upbringing.

He handed her a bit of gauze to bite down on for the pain, even if it was not needed for someone with her training. Shinozaki assassins were trained to never show pain.

However, the pain of him digging the bullet fragments did distract her enough that she didn't notice the return of the Britannian patrol until they had already arrived. As she lay defenseless on the ground, she was surprised to see the boy moving to protect her. He was quite fearless and honorable, staring down the soldiers and refusing to give ground. She felt she owed it to this boy to at least thank him before their demise, and she did so after a weak tap on his leg.

As he looked into her eyes, and a resolve drew itself up within his own purple eyes, she found herself spellbound by the sheer determination, bravery, and intelligence contained within.

The boy turned back to the soldiers, and she saw him reach for a pistol in his waistband. He intended to go down fighting then. She found herself unwilling to look away, feeling that this boy deserved to have someone who _cared_ witness his fall.

Then two of the guards dropped. The boy didn't hesitate a second as he quickly drew and finished off the other two guards as... more soldiers emerged from the trees?

The conversation the followed shocked her. She had been rescued by a Britannian prince? It seemed that he was in opposition to the current Emperor's regime, and stood a legitimate chance of changing it. Her first instinct had been to kill the boy for being the son of the one responsible for the murder of half her clan, but as the conversation continued, and he refused to leave her to her fate, that decision began to change. She did owe this boy a life-debt, and clan honor demanded that she repay it with her own life and loyalty.

Perhaps... perhaps swearing herself and her clan to one with the drive and ability to conquer their invaders would be beneficial, even if it was a Britannian. It was tradition for the Shinozaki kunoichi to swear themselves and the clan to a singular Master and their cause. The last Master of the Shinozaki clan had passed a four years ago, and Sayoko's mother had yet to choose a new one before the attack. As clan leader, the decision would now fall to her. It was unorthodox, but foreign Masters had been chosen in the past...

As she thought back to the boy's eyes and all that she'd seen in them, she decided. This boy had within him the intelligence and cunning to fight his enemies, the bravery and honor to lead a clan, and the drive to see it all through. The Shinozaki clan had found a new Master.

Maybe, just maybe, this boy had the ability to change things.

-Break-

Once the adrenaline had worn off in the manor's bunker, Lelouch collapsed into oblivion. It wasn't until he awoke the next morning in a nearly empty cellar that the full events of the previous day sunk in. He looked down at his hands, at the nearby pistol, and it finally dawned on him that he'd _killed_ two people last night. It was self-defense, but he'd _killed_ two people.

He recognized the feeling churning in his stomach, and managed to make it to the cellar's bathroom before vomiting. A soft hand laid itself on his back, and he looked up into the face of the woman he'd saved last night. The concern and understanding on her face was clear, but he waved her off as he rose to his feet. He didn't need a woman with multiple gunshot wounds worrying over his guilt.

It seemed Dr. Asplund had done his job well, as the woman seemed in much better shape than the previous night. Her wounds were treated and bandaged, her ankle was in a splint with ice, and she seemed to be dressed in one of the female House Guard's spare uniforms.

As he fell back down onto his cot, he noticed how empty the cellar was. It seemed that every non-replaceable element of it had been stripped down and removed.

Was everyone getting ready to leave? Where was everyone?

He rose, and decided to check the upstairs. As he opened the door, he nearly walked into Gottwald.

"Your Highness," he greeted Lelouch, "Good morning. I was just coming to wake you."

"Where is everyone?" he asked, still very confused. He looked back to notice that the Japanese woman was standing at his shoulder, similar to how Gottwald usually did. Gottwald shot the woman a wary glance, but it seemed some understanding had been reached between them as the man didn't comment on it.

Gottwald indicated towards the exterior doors of the manor, "Outside, Your Highness. We're leaving."

Lelouch was confused, before remembering the argument with Kewell and his resolution. He honestly didn't think they'd have arranged for their relocation so quickly. They must have been up the entirety of the night to arrange the necessary transportation to move everything they'd brought onto the cargo plane. This amazement compounded when he stepped blinking into the midday light to find eight large military cargo trucks embellished with the markings of the Britannian military.

"We took a squad during the night and raided a forward supply convoy," came Kewell's voice from the front truck. "We had luck and surprise on our side, so we managed to seize the trucks and some APCs without an alarm getting out. With the chaos of the invasion, we should have a few days to reach our destination and dispose of the trucks before command even realizes they're gone."

"Where are we relocating to now?" Lelouch asked as the House Guard ran about preparing the final touches.

"Tokyo."

Lelouch furrowed his eyebrow, before understanding, "Ahh, Britannia would have seized it first in the invasion, so it's been secured much longer—and with the size a single supply convoy could quite easily disappear into the new Britannian populace."

Kewell nodded, pleased that his pupil understood the strategic logic behind the decision, before narrowing his eyes once again at the sight of the woman still standing stoically at his shoulder. She hadn't said a word since he awoke, and he hoped that she at least understood somewhat what was going on. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally kidnap a refugee. Given Gottwald's acceptance of her being near him, however, it seemed that at least some understanding had been reached.

"I should mention, Your Highness," Kewell growled, "that this _very_ long roadtrip of ours will provide ample opportunity to properly _chastise_ you for your blatant recklessness and disregard for your safety last night."

Lelouch paled at the Count's words, but stood firm at the thought of the teenage girl standing behind him. Regardless of the endangerment, his actions had saved her life. The kinder, gentler world Nunnally envisioned was just the tiniest step closer.

As the final signal was given and the large convoy set off for Tokyo—even as Kewell's lecture rang through his head—Lelouch knew that he didn't regret a thing.


	2. Chapter 2: The Geass Directorate

Chapter 2: The Geass Directorate

In a darkened underground room, an immortal sat. Despite his childlike appearance, this immortal was heading one of the most ambitious projects in human history: The Geass Directorate—a secret initiative to study, manipulate, and enhance the mysterious power of Geass.

It was V.V's pet project, which he'd started after the _Marianne_ incident. He still didn't know why his brother had been so upset about this ordeal, but he did know that Charles had _lied_ to him. He'd claimed that Marianne would never get between them and their dream of a world free of lies, but that _woman_ had taken it as her personal mission to oppose the wars needed to seize the Thought Elevators. Without them, his and Charles' dream of uniting humanity would never be realized.

So he'd killed the woman, and now his brother was furious with him.

Charles could no longer be trusted.

Under his brother's nose, V.V had constructed this facility in a nice, neutral nation and consolidated all of his resources here. With a crack team of researchers to study the mystical nature of Geass and a handful of disposable guards to keep both the test subjects and scientists in line, he was confident that he would find a way to bypass the use of Thought Elevators.

Just in case his brother caught on to what he was doing and tried to stop it, he was also using samples from his latest... _guest_ to make a very effective deterrent.

After all, hostile supersoldiers were every militaristic nation's worst nightmare.

V.V chuckled to himself as he pulled up reports on the progress of the Britannian invasion via his computer. It seemed that most major cities had already been secured, although the remnants of the shattered Japanese army were putting up heavy resistance in the rural areas. Still, that was good for him. With Tokyo already searched and secured, his facility was practically guaranteed to remain undiscovered.

Fledgling organization though it was, V.V knew that it would grow into something that would bring an end to the world of lies.

As he reclined in his chair, specially built for someone of his build, he closed his eyes and let himself relax. All was going according to plan and soon nobody, not even Charles, would be able to stop him.

The phone rang.

Like a viper, V.V's hand reached out and snatched it. The phone in his office was only to be used in case of emergencies, and he'd _just_ given orders that he was not to be disturbed.

"What is it?"

"The trucks that were smuggling our equipment, they've been stolen!"

-Break-

 _Lelouch held his breath as the convoy rolled past the third massacre so far. Horrible as it was, in these moments he was glad for Nunnally's blindness. It saved her from witnessing the mass graves filled to the brim with slaughtered Japanese or the lines of captured Japanese soldiers, most with grievous injuries, being frogmarched by Britannian Knightmares to a more convenient place to execute them._

 _Instead, he and Sayoko—the Japanese woman he'd rescued two days ago—convinced her that they were just passing a series of landfills. Her nose wrinkled adorably at the smell, but she nodded and went back to the braille book she'd been reading._

 _Speaking of Sayoko, he was certainly... intrigued by his most recent ally. To think that he'd accidentally saved the life of a professional assassin; or that she'd repay that act by swearing herself to him and his cause. As an imperial prince, he'd possessed a great many assets even in his short life, but never had he tallied a clan of loyal foreign assassins in his portfolio._

 _In all honesty he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it._

 _On one hand, he was a tad cautious. Kewell had pulled him aside during their first rest break during the journey and 'advised' him to exercise extreme_ _suspicion regarding the woman. Apparently, the Shinozakis, of whom Sayoko was apparently a member, were infamous even outside Japan for their ruthlessness and efficiency as hired killers. It seemed the only reason the Count was tolerating her was due to the oaths she had sworn to Lelouch during her interrogation._

 _While they would lie, cheat, and steal when on the job, the Shinozaki had ironclad senses of honor, and Sayoko had sworn her loyalty in the name of her clan. Her word was her bond._

 _This was one of the contributing factors towards Lelouch personally trusted her. While he was entirely incapable of reading her beyond what he could tell she was deliberately broadcasting to him, her demeanor reminded him heavily of Gottwald—always hovering in his shadow and maintaining constant vigilance._

 _Cocooned in the safety of the convoy, Lelouch had no personal need of this level of protection—and thus he redirected her efforts towards Nunnally, who was as of late needing a caretaker to assist her._

 _In the end, he'd decided to place his trust in her. Naive was the word he knew Kewell would use, but if he was to carry out his plan to create a better world for his beloved sister, he would need allies; he couldn't afford to be picky. Having someone capable of... wetwork, would be a necessary tool for his arsenal._

-Break-

Sergeant Roy McReary was just getting ready to finish his shift at the Eastern Tokyo checkpoint when he spotted what looked like another supply convoy heading towards the city. He checked the log, but there weren't supposed to be any more trucks passing through today.

Out of caution, he motioned for his men to raise the bollards. It was unlikely, but possible that a few of the soon-to-be Elevens had hijacked some trucks.

"Oi, Gaz!" he called, waving his spotter over to where he was looking through his binoculars, "Get a look at this!"

"What is it now Roy?" Gaz grumbled, grinding out with his heel the cigarette he'd just been enjoying before marching over.

The sergeant passed over the binoculars, jutting a thumb towards the approaching dust cloud, "Looks like some sorta truck convoy, making some serious speed right towards us."

"Ain't we already cleared the last trucks today?"

"Far as I know. I checked the log to make sure and we're not supposed to have anyone else coming in."

"You thinking Japs?"

"Not sure. Maybe. Might be some of our boys got turned around somewhere on the highways. God knows this country's infrastructure's a bloody mess."

Suddenly, Gaz froze in place, "Fucking hell."

"Gaz?"

No response.

With a irritated sigh, Roy snatched the binoculars and refocused them on the dust cloud, now only a few miles out. He couldn't puzzle out what had had caused his spotter, a man who he could personally attest had nerves of fucking granite, to freeze up.

That was, of course, until he got an eyeful of the Knightmare heading the convoy.

"Fucking hell," was all he could mimic.

There was a bloody _Sutherland_ leading the trucks. Those things had only just unveiled a few weeks ago as elite commander units and, as anyone with an inkling of military experience knew, black-ops equipment.

Considering that a single Sutherland entering an area through official channels was news that every soldier would hear of, that meant that this particular Knightmare could only belong to one group.

"Fucking OSI," Gaz breathed.

Both soldiers made eye contact for a brief moment, the binoculars completely forgotten, before they both snapped back into both reality and action.

Roy sprinted over to the handful of men manning the bollards, hollering for them to "get those blocks down, you daft twits!" while Gaz dove at the radio operator that was just now calling up command to report an unregistered convoy approaching and wrestled the receiver away.

"Listen to me you suicidal ape," Gaz hissed at the protesting soldier, "you've obviously never dealt with OSI before. Soldiers who leave records of their operations have a curious habit of being reassigned to the European front only to get 'lost' on the way there."

After some frantic scrambling, the men in the checkpoint managed to organize themselves enough to ensure that the convoy would be able to pass without incident.

Neither the Knightmare nor the trucks even slowed as they roared through the barricade and into the war-torn city of Tokyo. The collected soldiers all unanimously let loose sighs of relief.

"I need a drink," Roy muttered, opening his kit and digging through to find the bottle of proper Britannian whiskey he'd managed to smuggle in for this tour.

Unbeknownst to anyone else in the checkpoint, Gaz surreptitiously drew an encrypted cellphone from his belt and sent an encoded message before joining the rest of the men celebrating the end of the shift.

* * *

In the hardened underground complex known colloquially as "The Bunker", the OSI headquartered there by their true master received the piece of information they had been searching for.

"My Lord!" greeted a messenger as he rushed into V.V's office, "We have a line on the missing trucks. One of our men at the Eastern Tokyo checkpoint just reported that eight unregistered army trucks just passed through, escorted by a Sutherland and a few APCs."

The immortal's eyes narrowed. The trucks and APCs matched what had been stolen, but where in the World of C had the thieves gotten their hands on a Sutherland? He feared Charles' involvement. Had his brother caught on to his scheming?

No, he couldn't have. The Bunker was a black site—completely off _any_ records; even the crew hired to construct it had been discretely removed once it was finished. Charles had no way to discover it either. The OSI was singularly loyal to V.V.

These weren't normal thieves though, not if they had a Sutherland. It was an infuriating puzzle. All Sutherlands were supposed to be accounted for, and none were in Japan.

The OSI was in charge of ensuring that the secret of Knightmares remained in Britannian hands, so he would be aware of any Sutherlands that went missing. Thus far, the only one missing was an early pre-production that had dropped off the map a few years ago, shortly after he'd dealt with that Marianne pest. Duke Ashford had claimed no knowledge of how one had disappeared, and the officers assigned to the investigation had written him off.

Marianne. Ashford. Sutherland. Japan.

Vi Britannia.

His vision turned red as the pieces clicked together. He'd assigned a squad to remove the last of the Vi Britannia pests shortly after disposing of their mother, but they'd reported back that the villa was nearly empty when they arrived.

When Charles learned of their disappearance, he'd tasked the OSI with tracking them down, and a token investigation had commenced. It was discovered that an air-traffic control officer had been bribed to ignore an unauthorized takeoff from St. Darwin's airport the night the children went missing, but they had lost the flight somewhere over the Pacific. It was believed that they'd fled to the Chinese Federation.

Ashford was an ally of Marianne's, however, and he personally didn't buy a Sutherland just "disappearing" without the Duke's knowledge. It would have been easy for him to "misplace" one into the hands of the Vi Britannias.

A wicked smile stretched across his face. The last spawn of the demon that had turned V.V's brother against him were within his grasp.

He snapped out of his train of thought and looked back up at the patiently waiting messenger, "Retask a satellite to track them through the city until you can get a physical tail on them. I don't want to lose sight of them for a second."

"Yes, My Lord. Is there anything else you require?" the messenger inquired.

"Just one more thing," he instructed with an unnerving look of glee in his eyes, "Prep the Irregulars, the first generation. And make sure to send their handler as well; I want the children alive."

* * *

In the end, it was Sayoko that found them accommodations in Tokyo. It seemed that the Shinozakis possessed several safehouses in Tokyo, although only one was large enough to house the men and their equipment. At the ninja's direction, the convoy navigated through the war-torn streets of the fallen city.

Even a cursory pass through the city sickened Lelouch. Japan's capitol had been one of the first cities to fall during the invasion, which meant that the Britannians would have had control of the city for almost two weeks now.

Which meant the the fresh Japanese bodies currently lining certain sections of the street weren't casualties of war. They were just the stubborn few that had refused to be 'relocated' to the bombed-out slums.

Eventually, the sight of the bodies disgusted Lelouch that he had to turn away until they arrived at an abandoned-looking warehouse in the industrial district.

In a stroke of luck, it seemed the area was completely deserted. The Britannians had no use for the area until reconstruction came, and the surviving Japanese of the city had been already been either forced into patrolled ghettos or shot. Nobody would be stumbling across them so long as they kept their voices down.

Jeremiah easily pried the rusted lock open with a crowbar and with a shuddering creak the large doors slid open to allow the trucks and Knightmare passage. The interior was just as dilapidated as the outside, with rotting wooden crates littering the perimeter of the enormous warehouse.

"I apologize for the quality of the accommodations, young master," said Sayoko contritely from her place behind Lelouch, "This safehouse has not seen use in over a decade. It's not seemly for one of your position, but I have no alternative."

"The housing _is_ a bit... rough," Kewell admitted, eyeing the warehouse appraisingly, "Fortunately, I've taken the liberty of getting in touch with Duke Ashford. He's agreed to establish himself and his granddaughter in Tokyo under the guise of moving to secure access to the Sakuradite deposits for his Knightmare research. He'll use this as cover to commission a more suitable safehouse for us. Unfortunately, that means we're stuck here for about a month."

Seeing that Kewell's appraisal hadn't made Sayoko feel better Lelouch laid his hand lightly on her arm, "This warehouse is fine. So long as its safe, we can make do."

The assassin looked him in the eye for a moment appraisingly, before smiling and nodding her head in gratitude.

As the House Guard began establishing a perimeter, Lelouch looked up towards Kewell, "So what now?"

"Now?" replied the Count as he perched himself on a dusty crate, "Now we eat MREs for the next few weeks and keep our bloody heads down until Ashford gives us the all-clear. We'll decide a plan for the long-term once we don't have to worry about about being found out by a routine patrol."

Lelouch's refined palate immediately protested at the thought of those horrid concoctions that the Brittanian Army Logistics Division tried to pass off as 'food', but he kept his thoughts to himself. With an air of resignation, he retrieved a bedroll from the truck and moved to where Jeremiah and Sayoko had gone off to set Nunnally up in the shabby remains of the foreman's office.

At least it had carpet, he thought as he measured the crumbling walls for structural integrity. It could be much worse. About half of the buildings in this district had been bombed during the invasion, so they were actually quite fortunate the the warehouse was even still there.

With a sigh that suddenly made his exhaustion from the multi-day truck ride foray to the front of his mind, he laid the bedroll next to Nunnally and collapsed onto it. His sweet sister had apparently been even more drained than he was, because she was already letting loose light snores from her place beside him. Despite this, as he laid down she unconsciously snuggled up beside him, seeking his warmth.

Smiling, he brushed her hair out of her angelic face. With a feeling of utter contentedness he laid himself down for a restful sleep.

If only it would last.

* * *

Lelouch awoke several hours later to an odd muffled clacking echoing throughout the warehouse. It was a vaguely familiar sound, but he couldn't quite place it until he heard the return fire from the House Guard. Instinctively he snapped up from his bedroll and crept to the window of the corner office.

What he saw was pure chaos.

On the near side of the warehouse were the members of his House Guard and Count Soresi, stacked up behind crates and barrels as they desperately tried to hold their ground. Two of them laid bloody and whimpering against a forklift. A third didn't move at all.

Across the warehouse near the main doors were... monsters. That was the only way Lelouch could describe them—gaunt, emaciated humanoids with limbs at grotesque, inhuman angles that looked like the product of science gone wrong. Despite their inhuman appearance, each was clad in skintight black outfits with visored helmets and armed with silenced rifles that were sending unerring shots towards his guards. Any concentrated return fire was met with unnerving spiderlike skittering as they avoided the attacks.

Finally, one of the Guardsmen finally got lucky and managed to nail one down with a solid burst. With a screech the monster fell.

Then it got back up.

Before Lelouch's horrified eyes, the creature leapt back to its feet as the area around the bullet wounds _regenerated_. It snatched its weapon off the floor and sent another stream of bullets back towards the soldiers while its comrades advanced.

Brave and loyal as they may be, every man has his limit and for Queen Marianne's former house guard this was rapidly approaching it. One by one the Guardsmen started falling back and back until the entire lot of them were penned up right in front of the office door as they desperately tried to hold their ground against the seemingly invincible foe.

The skittering horrors closed in with predatory glee as the demoralized guard prepared to make their final stand. Lelouch saw them ready for a last, desperate volley when an earshattering series of explosions rocked the dingy warehouse. Smoke momentarily filled the air as confusion reigned until a convenient gust of wind revealed the changed scene.

Where there were once half a dozen monsters there was now only a gory red smear and several craters in the concrete floor. Where there was once one an open space there now stood an imposing Sutherland with a smoking anti-armor gun.

The leftover gore from the monsters actually quivered a bit, causing everyone to tense with disbelief, but it seemed that whatever unholy mad science granted them the horrific regeneration ability had its limits—and those limits didn't extend to the creatures being reduced to pulp by armaments designed to be employed against _tanks_.

Once everyone was sure that the abominations weren't about to reform and start attacking again, they quickly moved to secure a perimeter against further attacks. After scanning the environment with its factsphere, the cockpit of the Sutherland opened and Jeremiah emerged. He quickly lowered himself from the Knightmare and dashed for his charges, followed shortly by Kewell.

"Your Highness!" he cried, "Are you injured?"

"No..." said Lelouch dazedly, still rather shell-shocked at the short but vicious ambush. That didn't seem to satisfy the bodyguard as he still checked the boy for injuries before having his hands pushed away as an errant thought crashed its way to the forefront of Lelouch's mind. Nunnally.

He whirled around to see that his sister was indeed awake and was whimpering from her bedroll, unable to move herself and having no idea what was going on. Immediately he rushed over and embraced her, letting her latch onto him like a limpet and sob into his shoulder.

"It's okay Nuna," he cooed soothingly as she cried, "It's okay. We're safe for now."

His gaze turned outwards to the warehouse, where he saw Dr. Asplund emerge from the APC he'd been using as cover during the firefight. The doctor started cataloging the injuries and fatalities among the soldiers. Lelouch could see that in addition to the already dead soldier, one of the two wounded ones had died as well. He couldn't make out their faces, but he still had to force himself to block out his emotions. Years of living with them at the safehouse had meant that he knew each and every one of the men under him personally. He wasn't eager to find out which two had just died for him.

As Nunnally's sobbing slowed, he continued with his head count. His sister, Gottwald, Asplund and Kewell were accounted for.

"Where's Sayoko?" he asked Gottwald. The assassin had rarely been out of arm's reach ever since he'd rescued her in the woods. It was odd that she wasn't there now.

Right on cue, the woman in question entered through the fire door, dragging behind her a normal-looking unconscious man clad in similar gear to the creatures. She surveyed the situation in the warehouse for a moment before erupting in a string of irate Japanese that Lelouch didn't follow, but Kewell seemed to—and judging by his increasingly red face, it was directed at him.

Eventually, the ninja calmed herself enough to yell at him in Britanninan, "I am well aware that you don't trust me, Count Soresi, and I accept that, but it seems I've made an error in allowing you to order me around in the name of placating your paranoia. I advise that you never again presume to part me from my Master—not after this."

Kewell's already red face seemed on the verge of erupting by this point, and Lelouch wasn't sure if it was just his imagination that steam was coming out of his ears, "I sent you on a very simple scouting expedition. How was I supposed to know that we'd be attacked by monsters in the meanwhile? I thought this was supposed to be a _safe_ house!"

"You only sent me 'scouting' because you're too arrogant to let someone you don't personally trust near your charge, despite my oaths and his own trust. Now, because of your foolishness, our Master nearly died at the hands of these _creatures_. And this _is_ a safe house. If we've been found out, it's because you and your men gave yourselves away on the way here."

Before Kewell could let loose another reply, the unconscious man Sayoko had dragged in started groaning. With a casual ease, Lelouch's sworn assassin lifted him by the front of his shirt and cold-clocked him once more. Probably harder than strictly necessary.

"I know not where these monsters came from," she said to her Master, "but this snake I found skulking outside most likely does. Give me a few minutes with him and I guarantee he'll be in a telling mood."

All eyes in the room turned to Lelouch. He didn't like the idea of torture, but he had two men who had just died at the hands of whoever sent those abominations after him. Perhaps this one of those parts of growing up—realizing that the end justified the means. With a sigh, he turned towards Sayoko and gave a nod, "Do it."

* * *

After placing a pair of headphones playing loud Mozart over Nunnally's innocent ears, the ninja set to work and Gottwald joined in. Dr. Asplund had offered Lelouch a pair as well, but he'd declined them. He had made the decision, and so he was going to see the consequences through.

It was gruesome and loud work, and everyone thanked God that the entire district was deserted—otherwise they would've had every soldier in a ten block radius coming down on them.

"Maybe I should take a look at him," Dr. Asplund muttered eventually, "He doesn't look too good."

Gottwald paused for a moment, taking a moment to wipe the blood off his knuckles, "Oh he's hale and hearty Asplund. Ain't that right?"

The gagged and bloody prisoner screamed something through his gag, but Sayoko cut him off with a precise jab to his Adam's apple that left the man choking.

"See? He's fine," Gottwald sneered as he snagged a piece of broken glass from the window of the office and forced it into the man's mouth before delivering another punch. A muffled scream filled the room before Sayoko finally removed the gag and let the man spit out a combination of blood and broken glass.

"Feel like talking yet?" Gottwald barked, "We've got plenty more windows."

"Please, I don't know anything," the man begged.

"Not good enough," informed Sayoko as she started heating one of her knives with a blowtorch, "We're going to need names."

"I can't," pleaded the man, "They'll kill me!"

"So will we, but we're taking our time with it."

Finally, after weighing his options the man seemed to resign himself.

"The Geass Directorate," he murmered

Gottwald paused in his breaking off another piece of glass, "Pardon?"

"The Geass Directorate!"

A wicked grin illuminated the bodyguard's face, "Good, now we're getting somewhere. What's the Geass Directorate?"

"I don't know much. I'm just a grunt, and we're not allowed to know the inner workings of the Directorate. All I know is that its an underground group dedicated to studying something called 'Geass'. I'm not sure what that is, but it's some freaky shit. It's what they used to make the Irregulars, those freakazoids that attacked your men. I'm not supposed to know this, but it's part of what made the director immortal."

Kewell sneered from the corner, "Immortal? You honestly expect us to buy that?"

"It's the truth!" yelled the bleeding man, "It's like those things out there, but amped up to a hundred. Best the scientists could tell, the director _can't_ be killed. Period. Apparently, the Irregulars were made using his DNA, but they weren't able to get it operating at the same level."

The Count considered this for a moment. It did make a twisted kind of sense and once you threw regenerating monsters into the equation there was very little that fell outside the realm of believability.

"Go on. How in hell does the Emperor not know about this? You're obviously a Britannian organization, and the OSI had its fingers in everything. Charles'd be fielding supersoldiers left and right if he was able to."

"The OSI are part of the Directorate. The director managed to usurp them. They secretly answer to him."

"Bullshit," sneered Gottwald as he finished breaking off another piece of glass, "No way it goes that high up."

"Please," the grunt begged, "It's true, I swear! It's how we found you after you accidentally stole our trucks! The OSI are the only ones with access to the Britannian spy satellites and they're how we tracked you to this warehouse so that we could recover the equipment hidden under the beds."

"So that's why you sent those monsters after us?" demanded Sayoko, "Because we accidentally stole your trucks?"

"Initially, at least, yeah. The trucks were supposed to be smuggling in our communications equipment. The new base is a consolidation of all the previous locations, but we don't have the equipment to contact the outside world yet. I was told to manage the Irregulars, recover the equipment, and make sure they didn't get out of hand. For some reason, the director also wanted the kid back there taken alive, along with a girl in a wheelchair."

The room went silent as everyone processed this. Whoever was in charge of this organization knew who Lelouch and Nunnally were. They wouldn't be able to escape just by ditching the trucks. They would have to find this organization and eliminate it.

"This director," demanded Gottwald, "What's his name?"

"I don't know. I've never seen him in person, and everyone either calls him The Director or V.V."

Sayoko circled around the man, eyeing the visored helmet the man had been wearing, "Only a few more questions."

Sensing the end was near, the man gulped, "Just make it quick, okay? Please."

At Gottwald's nod, the grunt closed his eyes, "Ask."

"Just where is this organization of yours located?"

* * *

Guard duty, in Dave and Michael's opinion, was _designed_ to make soldiers break rules. Telling two men to watch the entry ramp leading down into a bloody _black site,_ a place that nobody who wasn't supposed to be there even _knew about_ wasn't an order that invited any measure of seriousness.

In the last month, the closest thing they'd had to a 'security concern' was a homeless bum looking for someplace to sleep that they'd promptly shot and disposed of. Even the invasion had missed them entirely.

With this in mind, it was to nobody's surprise that they were playing playing cards when Roger's truck came back with the Irregulars. Honestly, those things creeped the hell out of the pair. They never talked, instead they'd just _stare_ at you. Dave pressed down the button on his radio.

"Entry ramp here. Roger's just got back with the truck. Looks like mission successful. Letting him in. Over."

A second later, he got word back, "Control here. You know regs Dave. You gotta make visual identification before you let him in. I know that cameras aren't up yet and we can't monitor you, but you can't use that as an excuse to not do your job."

As the semi-truck and trailer pulled into the loading bay and up to the shutter door that led lower to the facility, Dave, after sparing a glance to ensure Michael wasn't cheating, went up to the window. Roger rolled the window down, and Dave was rather surprised to see that he had his helmet on. None of the fifteen or so guards at the facility wore their helmets unless they needed to. The bloody director had cheaped out on their gear, and gotten helmets with shitty ventilation.

"Roger, you know I appreciate your attempts to shield us from that ugly mug of yours, but regs say I gotta make 'visual identification', so how about you lose it so we can move the freaks in the trailer to a nice secure cell again."

A thump from behind him distracted Dave temporarily. He turned around to see...

Michael on the ground, holding his slashed throat.

With a curse, he went for his gun only to scream as a thrown knife impaled his hand. Suddenly, his hair was yanked back and a knife was pressed to his bared throat.

"The gate code," demanded a cold, female voice.

"Four-Eight-Five-Nine-Two-Six," he answered immediately, "Please, don-"

He never finished his statement.

* * *

V.V sat in his office, feeling immensely pleased with himself. In one fell swoop, he'd recovered the stolen equipment and avenged himself on the vile spawn of that woman. And he was going to enjoy this. Time had forced his hand with Marianne, but his men would have taken the two brats alive, meaning he'd be able to take his time with them.

Marianne hadn't paid nearly enough for turning Charles against him, but since she was already dead her children would have to do.

The intercom on his desk informed him that the truck used for transporting the Irregulars had just returned. While he would usually wait for the prisoners to be brought to him, he was so excited he would make an exception.

With a certain amount of glee in his step, he exited his office and navigated the corridors to the lower loading dock. Sure enough, the semi-truck was just pulling in as he arrived. Several guards and scientists were on standby to retrieve the prisoners and put the Irregulars back in their cages.

Perhaps, V.V, thought as the driver exited the truck, he would give this guard a promotion. He was in a _very_ good mood.

"A job well done soldier," said the immortal as he extended his hand for the visored soldier to shake, "The prisoners and equipment are in the trailer I take it?"

At the soldier's nod, V.V turned and barked for the men standing around the dock to unload the truck and was surprised to see them staring back at him in shock. He turned back around and found himself starting down the barrel of a pistol.

The world went black.

* * *

At the sound of Kewell's gunshot, Gottwald sprang into action. He yanked the control stick of the Sutherland forward, launching it through the roof of the trailer. As soon as he'd cleared the truck, the rest of the House Guard charged out from the rear and set into the paralyzed soldiers and scientists.

Watching the scrambling men in labcoats, Jeremiah felt no remorse. He was fighting for his liege, currently secure on the surface with Asplund and two of the guard.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the small figure Kewell had just shot twitch. After those monsters at the warehouse, he was taking no chances. Two anti-tank rounds hammered the spasming corpse into pulp.

By this point, six of the facility's guards lay dead on the loading bay. According the the man they'd interrogated, only about sixteen guards were employed by the facility since apparently the director preferred secrecy to security. As their only real function was to keep the test subjects in line, it sufficed.

Including the two from the entrance and the one they'd interrogated, that meant that there were seven left, along with twenty or so scientists and about a dozen OSI operatives.

He sneered. Kewell was going to regret challenging the man with the Knightmare on their respective killcounts.

* * *

It took about an hour, but eventually the facility had been purged of all staff. The chief of security had been taken prisoner and the codes for the various doors and computer systems had been extracted from him by Sayoko before she disposed of him.

After confirming that the child-like body from the loading bay was the director of the facility, Jeremiah placed the rapidly reforming corpse into one of the holding cells until he could find a more permanent solution.

It was here that he and Kewell made a horrific discovery.

Most of the cells in the facility were empty, but others weren't.

A series of five adjacent cells held sobbing little girls that couldn't be older than twelve. Worse, they were handcuffed to metal hospital beds and outfitted with all manner of medical equipment. Clipboards outside the cells were filled indecipherable medical jargon, but one phrase on all five stood out.

"Irregulars—Generation II!" read Gottwald, horrified, "They can't be older than His Highness!"

"Let me see that," ordered Kewell, snatching the clipboard. After scanning it and coming across the same line, he reached for one of the radios he and the House Guard had stolen from the facility's now-deceased soldiers.

"This is Soresi. Get Dr. Asplund down here now."

About ten minutes later, the placid doctor arrived with two guards and Lelouch in tow. Kewell's eyes narrowed at the additions.

"I only asked for you, Dr. Asplund. His Highness has no need to be here," he barked, moving to block line of sight to the cell.

Lelouch opened his mouth to let loose an angry protest, but Asplund gave him a warning look and answered in his stead, "His Highness was concerned that someone was injured. He argued that he's already lost two men today, and needed to be there if there was to be a third. I was inclined to agree with him and brought him along. Lady Nunnally is with the rest of the men and Miss Shinozaki in the loading bay. Now what did you need me for?"

Kewell grunted, but assented to the logic, "Well nobody is injured. We found these prison cells, but we can't read the medical charts. If we're to open them up, we need to be sure they're not a hazard and can be safely moved."

With a nod, the doctor took the first chart and went over it with a clinical eye. The only expression he showed was a brief raise of his brow as he came across the note about the Irregulars, but he otherwise didn't react.

After several moments, the bespectacled man glanced back up from the clipboard, "Physically speaking, they're in good health. The equipment is only there to keep them nourished and sedated. Psychologically, I'm not sure. If they've been kept prisoner by this organization, it's likely they'll react hostilely to us."

There was a brief pause as the adults considered this.

"We could send His Highness in," mused after several moments Asplund.

"Absolutely not!" retorted Gottwald and Soresi simultaneously. They both glanced at one another, before Jeremiah indicated for Kewell to go ahead.

"Absolutely not," he reiterated, "If these really are based on the originals we met, I want them nowhere near His Highness."

Asplund motioned to the chart once more, "It says nowhere on here that the children are dangerous. While they may be frightened of us, they look to be the same age as Prince Lelouch. He should be able to keep them calm while we move them somewhere safer."

"Not dangerous?" argued Kewell, "They're sedated in a bloody _cell_. Of course they're dangerous! His Highness is _not_ going in there!"

Before the doctor could reply, Lelouch interjected, "Don't I get a say in this?"

The three adults all froze, as if they had forgotten that he was even there.

"Err, yes," Dr. Asplund muttered sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head, "I suppose the choice _is_ yours."

"I want to go in."

Kewell looked ready to argue again, but one look at Lelouch's face changed his mind.

"Two men have died for me today, good men, who died because I was too weak to stand for myself. I'm never going to let that happen again, do you understand? If I can help, I'm going to, and damn the consequences."

The Count held the boy's gaze for several moments before flinching. Defeated, he turned and punched in the code for the keypad.

"We'll be right outside."

Lelouch took a deep breath, preparing himself. The door slid open with a soft hiss, filling the air with the sickly sweet stench of a hospital room. For the briefest moment he had flashbacks to the hospital with Nunnally, right after his mother's assassination. He pushed it from his mind and sallied forth.

The sobbing figure on the bed recoiled when the door opened and the steadily beeping heart monitor spiked at his approach.

" _Please,_ " came a weak, parched voice wafting through the dim light, " _Not again. Don't hurt me again. I'll be good this time, I swear."_

Lelouch's jaw tightened as the pathetic sound hit him like a punch to the gut. She sounded far too much like Nunnally.

"It's alright," he called softly, "I'm not here to hurt you. The bad men from earlier are gone. I've gotten rid of them."

" _Gone_? _"_

"Yes, they're gone and never going to come back. I've made sure they'll never hurt you again. Is it okay if I come closer? I'd like to take those needles out so that I can take you someplace warm and safe. I'll take care of you."

" _Take care_?"

"That's right. I'll take care of you for as long as you need. Can I come closer?"

There was a pause of indecision, before finally the voice choked out a soft ," _Yes_ ," that could have been mistaken for a sob.

Lelouch slowly approached the bed, finally nearing enough to make out the finer details of the prone figure. The girl was lying pitifully in a hospital gown, each of her limbs handcuffed to the nearest point of the metal bed. Her dull purple hair was filthy with sweat despite the frigid air of the room and goosebumps stood out against her pale skin.

It was her eyes, however, that threw him for a loop.

One normal gray eye stared back at him, wide with uncertainty, while the other... glowed.

The girl's left eye glowed a light purple, and where the pupil should have been had been replaced with an odd red sigil that reminded him of a crude depiction of a bird in flight. As the eye made contact with his, the girl's face contorted briefly and Lelouch had the odd feeling that his sincerity was being judged.

As soon as the feeling appeared it vanished, along with the sigil and the girl's eye returned to normal so fast that for a moment Lelouch thought he'd imagined it.

Earmarking the odd silent exchange for later discussion Lelouch approached the bed, careful to remain nonthreatening even though the girl no longer seemed as scared.

"My name's Lelouch," he introduced, "What's yours?"

"Mao," breathed the girl.

Lelouch indicated towards the half-dozen inserted into various sections of her anatomy, "Okay Mao, is it alright if I take these out?"

At the girl's nod, the prince delicately removed the tape around the needles and slid them out from her skin. Lelouch eyed the handcuffs briefly, looking for a way to get them off.

"Do you know where the keys to these are?" he asked.

"The cabinet," answered Mao, "in the first drawer."

Lelouch opened the first drawer of the nearby cabinet and was sickened to find, in addition to a set of keys, various sets of scalpels, needles, and other assorted instruments the wouldn't look out of place in a medieval dungeon.

After fishing out the keys, he returned to the bed and met Mao's eyes once more, "I'm going to take these off, okay? Can you promise to be calm?"

Mao's seemed to compose herself, and she nodded, "I promise."

"Alright," said Lelouch as he quickly removed the restraints, "Can you stand?"

"I think so."

The girl slowly slid out of the hospital bed until her bare feet touched the cold floor. She leaned forward out of the bed, only to start crumbling as weight was put on her legs. Lelouch, who had been prepared for this, managed to keep her from hitting the floor as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to support her.

Mao gave him a grateful look, and the two delicately navigated the room back to the doorway. The girl flinched as they exited the room and were confronted by a tense Gottwald and Soresi. Mao seemed ready to recoil back into herself, but after sparing Lelouch another hesitant glance she seemed to compose once more.

"Alright Mao," said Lelouch as he brought her over to Asplund, "this is Dr. Asplund. He's a very nice man. He'll take you some place warm, okay?"

Expecting the freezing girl to jump at the opportunity, Lelouch was surprised when instead the girl latched on to him and buried her face in his arm

"No! You said _you_ would take care of me! No doctors!"

Lelouch thought for a moment, "I suppose I did. Alright, you can stay with me, but I have to help the girls in these other rooms too, okay?"

"I can help with that!" said Mao desperately.

She probably could, realized Lelouch. It might help expedite the process for the girls to see one of their own with him.

"Do you know the other girls in these rooms?" he asked.

"Mhmm," confirmed Mao, "That one's Sancia, that one's Alice, then there's Dalque and Lucretia."

Lelouch sighed. This was going to take a while.

* * *

Fortunately, Lelouch was pleasantly surprised. The ensuing conversations were greatly expedited by Mao, who's presence calmed the girls and who also managed to eerily preempt any concerns or questions they might have.

Soon enough, the five girls were all freed and shivering in the cool hallway that contained their cells.

Lelouch was getting ready to lead them back towards the employee lounge that Asplund had directed him to when Mao tugged his sleeve.

"What about C.C?" she asked.

"C.C?" replied Lelouch, confused. Was there another girl that he'd missed? The hallway only contained six cells, and the former director was contained in one of them.

"Here," said Mao as she took his arm and led him through a maze of hallways to, sure enough, another cell. Gottwald and Asplund followed behind him in confusion along with the other four girls.

Lelouch noted that this cell was different than the others. The door was heavier, the glass thicker, and in addition to the keypad there was a manual deadbolt. He peered through the window and saw that the occupant was in fact a grown woman and asleep.

Judging from the lack of restraints and the presence of even more needles, it wasn't voluntary.

Asplund quickly punched in the code for the door and after undoing the deadbolt he, Lelouch, and Gottwald entered. The doctor immediately moved to shut off the devices keeping her comatose.

As the drugs were cut, Lelouch approached the side of the bed. The woman was far older than the other girls he'd freed that day, perhaps nineteen. She had green hair that was currently splayed out behind her.

His examination was cut short when the woman stirred imperceptibly, and before Lelouch could react her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He saw Gottwald spring towards them out of the corner of his eye before black filled his vision.

* * *

 _"Well now," purred a voice that seemed to resonate from inside his skull, "this is certainly not what I was expecting. A fair bit younger than my previous contractors, but plenty of ambition and a mind able to see them through. I think you'll do quite nicely."_

 _The blackness around Lelouch transformed into a surreal landscape of cogs, planets, and timepieces. Visions flashed before his eyes too rapidly to process._

 _"Listen well, Prince Lelouch, for this is an offer I can make but once. If you wish it, I shall bestow upon you a Geass, the power of the Kings. Accepting it will isolate you from your fellow man, but only because you shall soar above them. All that you seek you will find within your grasp, and your enemies will fall before you. The power to create, shape, and destroy empires will be at your fingertips._

 _All I ask in return for this is that in exchange for me granting your wish, that you grant mine."_

 _Lelouch smiled. The tale of Faust rose once more to the forefront of his mind. He had sworn that stormy night so long ago that he would offer anything for his revenge against Britannia and to see Nunnally's world born. This woman offered him control over everything._

 _Whatever price she wanted was nothing._


	3. Chapter 3: Birth of a Monster

**Hello readers, Neolyph here with a few short notes before this chapter. 1: In response to several reviews, Mao is technically not gender-bent. Mao is Mao the Refrain from Nightmare of Nunnally. I've adapted her and the Irregulars for this story. 2. In case you haven't figured it out by now, this is heavily AU from traditional Code Geass. Don't expect everything to function the same. 3. Don't expect another chapter quite so soon. This chapter is an apology of sorts for last chapter being about as timely as a long-term Middle East peace solution.**

Chapter 3: The Birth of a Monster

Lelouch's jarring step back into reality hit him with the force of a train. He staggered backwards away from the hospital bed as Gottwald finished his lunge for its inhabitant. The bodyguard wasted no time as he forced his hand around the green-haired woman's throat for assaulting his charge. It took a moment for Lelouch to compose himself enough to intervene.

"Stop," he commanded, but Jeremiah was too caught up with his strangulation to pay his liege heed.

" **Stop _,_** " he ordered once more. His voice seemed older, more mature—more authoritative than he was accustomed to.

This time, the order was heeded.

Gottwald loosened his grip and turned around to look at Lelouch, before his orange eyes wide with alarm.

"Your Highness," he cried, "your eyes!"

' _My eyes?_ ' thought Lelouch as he searched the room for a reflective surface. He eventually found the now-darkened screen of the readout machine that Asplund had just unplugged. The aforementioned doctor had just joined Jeremiah in staring in shock.

Lelouch peered into the reflective glass and saw that in the center of his eyes, where his pupils should be, were instead red bird-like sigils, identical to the one he'd seen in Mao's eye when he was freeing her. Was this Geass?

He opened his mouth to speak when a parched, female voice cut him off, "I would advise caution in your words when peering at you reflection, Your Highness. You may not like the results."

The boy prince turned towards the source and saw that the woman from the bed was now sitting up, and looking towards him with a knowing expression.

"And why not?" he demanded, rubbing his temples to stave off his massive headache.

"Because," explained the woman with her scratchy voice, no doubt damaged by excessive dehydration, "you, my prince, have just received the Geass of Absolute Obedience. Anyone who meets your eye is subject to your commands should you wish it."

Lelouch stared in shock for a moment as his conversation with her came rushing back to him. Geass. 'The Power of the Kings' she had called it. He hadn't quite understood her words, but something deep down inside him, something primal, had understood her perfectly. It knew that she offered him control of both his destiny and that of the world's.

"How do you know His Highness' identity?" barked Gottwald, focusing on the portion of the exchange he understood.

"I make a habit of knowing many things," smirked the green-haired woman unhelpfully.

Noticing that his bodyguard looked ready to finish his earlier attempt at strangulation, Lelouch opted to continue his questioning, "You offered me power in exchange for a wish. What is it?"

The woman gave him the sort of look an adult would give to a child trying to read a calculus textbook, "Let's just say that you're currently far from able to grant it."

Gottwald growled at the woman's evasiveness, but Lelouch soldiered on.

"Geass," he demanded, "explain."

* * *

Mind reeling from witch's encapsulation of the enormous power she had placed at his fingertips, Lelouch stumbled from the cell with Gottwald and an even more pensive than usual Asplund trailing behind him.

He held the power to force the complete obedience of any that met his gaze. Even if it only worked once, his strategically-oriented brain could still conjure a thousand uses and abuses for such a power. It both frightened and elated him.

And an immortal? Despite the woman's overall evasiveness she had at least made that at least clear, and the idea fascinated him. What wisdom and knowledge would one accumulate over hundreds of years worth of life?

His inquisitive and strategic instincts begged him to demand more answers from the woman as she exited the cell, but he knew that there was more he had to do first. Getting the rescued girls who had been waiting submissively outside the cell to someplace warm was his first priority.

The silent group navigated the winding corridors to the pleasant, carpeted employee lounge where Nunnally and Sayoko waited. Asplund broke off to find Kewell and start going over the Directorate's research. The prince collapsed into a chair as he tried to process all that he'd uncovered. Sayoko eyed the girls warily from her place over Nunnally.

Lelouch closed his eyes for a brief moment, only to be surprised when he felt someone crawl into the padded chair with him. His immediate examination revealed Mao curled up into his side like a kitten.

Unconsciously, he brushed her hair like he often did with Nunnally and she seemed to melt into his embrace.

"Are you sure you want to sit here?" he questioned softly, "There are other seats if you want one."

The girl's grip tightened as she looked up to meet his gaze.

" _Warm_ ," she offered before closing her eyes and relaxing.

As Mao drifted off, Lelouch took a moment to examine the other four girls, who were sitting uncertainly around the lounge. The one called Dalque, a darker-skinned girl with white hair, was the boldest—staring at him with unabashed curiosity. The blonde, Alice, seemed to be alternating between uncertain glances at himself and Nunnally. The pale Lucretia refused to look at anyone at all. Lelouch noted that the black-haired Sancia seemed to be the oldest, and that she had placed herself squarely between the girls and the rest of the room.

That one... reminded him of himself.

His eyes locked with hers, and for a moment the pair just examined one another.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know," he said eventually.

The suspicion in her features did not abate.

"Since we were six years old, everyone we have ever met has hurt us. Why should you be any different?" she spat. Lelouch could see the anger and fear in her. He saw her fear not just for herself, but for the three girls behind her. He could feel her distrust, suspicion, and uncertainty—yet he could also feel the smoldering embers of her hope. Deep down, he felt that she wanted to trust him. She wanted someone to rescue her.

He felt them all, because they were all emotions he'd felt on his flight to Japan when he'd been rescued from the Ares Villa.

"What can I do to convince you of my sincerity?" he offered, spreading his arms out disarmingly.

"Let us go," was her immediate response.

"You know I can't do that. I freed you from your cells, but I can't let you leave this facility by yourselves. Not only does it risk our secrecy, but I can't in good conscience let a group of girls who have been fed for God-knows how long on nutrients wander around a warzone."

"Then it seems we're at a stalemate," she growled.

Mao stirred from her place at Lelouch's side.

" _You can trust Big Brother_ ," she mumbled sleepily, " _I read him. He wants to help us._ "

Lelouch shifted uncomfortably at the confirmation that the quiet girl had indeed used a Geass on him, along with her use of the affectation typically reserved for Nunnally, but from the look on Sancia's face it was worth it. Her expression rapidly shifted from wariness, to surprise, to hope.

Sancia's blue eyes searched his for a long moment, on the lookout for the barest hint of deception. Finding none, her fearsome facade finally dropped. She collapsed next to her sisters and sobbed in relief, finally looking the part of the scared twelve-year old she was.

" _Thank you_ ," she choked out, " _Thank you._ "

Not knowing how to handle this, Lelouch resorted to his procedure for Nunnally and, after slipping Mao's grip, knelt next to the crying girl and put his arms around her. Her sobbing into his shirt seemed to open the floodgates and soon he found himself having to repeat the technique on the three other girls.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he knew the unobtrusive form of Asplund was leaning over his shoulder and whispering into his ear.

" _Your Highness, there's something you need to see. It's... urgent._ "

* * *

As Lelouch left the room with Dr. Asplund, the remaining occupants eyed one another. Nunnally was still in the corner with Sayoko watching over her. The Irregulars huddled together as they came to terms with their newfound freedom.

Mao, having felt the source of her comfort left, stirred irritably in her sleep.

" _Big Brother?_ " she called out in her sleep.

Nunnally's heart broke at the pathetic sound. It sounded like her when she was in the hospital after the incident. She had Sayoko wheel her over to the armchair, where she took the sleeping girl's hand.

" _Shhh,_ " she whispered like Lelouch did whenever she was upset, " _It's alright. My Big Brother's not here right now, but I'm here._ "

This seemed to finally wake the girl, as she snapped up with a start.

"You're not Big Brother!" she accused.

"No," confirmed Nunnally, "I'm not. I'm Lelouch's little sister. He had to go check on something. But I'll stay with you until he gets back, okay?"

Mao stared at the younger girl, frustrated that her eyes weren't open to read. Silent hatred welled up inside her, but she suppressed it. She remembered from her glimpse into Big Brother's mind that he doted on this... thief—the one that currently possessed her Big Brother's affection. He wouldn't take it well if she was rude to her.

"Okay," she agreed with just the right amount shyness.

' _Thief_ '

* * *

Dr. Asplund led Lelouch through the stark hallways of the facility until they reached a heavy, sealed door. The doctor punched in the code and it opened with a loud hiss.

The room was revealed to be an enormous research lab. Banks of computers lined one wall while massive lab apparatuses filled the opposite. The wall opposite the entrance housed a group of human-sized tanks filled with a pulsing amber liquid.

"What is that?" he asked in both curiosity and dawning horror.

Thomas pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed wearily, "Well, that's what I wished to discuss, Your Highness. I've uncovered some... disturbing research." He strode over to the computer bank and tapped a few keys. The screen lit up and data began scrolling through. It moved far too fast for Lelouch to fully comprehend, but the images horrified him.

He saw images of horrible experiments— _human_ experiments.

He saw the woman whom had given him his Geass, C.C, flayed open while alive as masked scientists drew samples from her. The next images showed the same material being transplanted into a group of Britannian soldiers, who in later images were showed to have gradually transformed into the monsters from the warehouse.

Lelouch shuddered as the experiments progressed. Reports flashed citing the first generation of Irregulars as useful failures. Plans were shown to be drafted for a second generation with a different aim.

The creation of artificial Geass users.

He saw the girls from the lounge, no older than six at the time, strapped to tables as the same cruel scientists inserted needles filled with the amber fluid. The girls convulsed violently as their foreheads glowed and their eyes illuminated.

And the screams. He couldn't block out the screams.

Further reports filled with incomprehensible medical terms flashed over the screen, interspersed with pictures and short videos of the developing Geass abilities achieved by the second Generation of Irregulars.

Several final record flashed, detailing the transfer and consolidation of the facilities to this final location designed to serve as a central hub for the Geass Directorate. Once they were through, Asplund tapped the keyboard once again and shut down the file system he'd been accessing.

The pair sat in silence for a long while.

"They called the project Code R," said Asplund eventually.

"Why?" cried Lelouch as he snapped back into reality and felt the full weight of the atrocities he'd born witness to, "What was it all for? What were they trying to accomplish?"

In answer, the doctor strode over to a refrigerated medical cabinet and retrieved a syringe filled with the pulsating amber liquid from the tanks. He set it down on the table in front of Lelouch.

"This, Your Highness. This is what they sought. The reports call this substance Meld. Apparently, it's a compound derived from that young woman C.C's DNA. Despite it's... origins I cannot deny that from a purely objective standpoint it's a borderline miraculous material."

Lelouch noted that the typically unflappable doctor was actually getting the slightest bit worked up.

"If applied by the right scientific mind, it could modulate the way the body reacts to damage—allowing the conception of previously impossible cybernetic and biological technology that will truly interface with the human body. And although this is only dubiously scientific, the reports also indicate that this substance can be used to induce a sort of artificial Geass into a subject. I'm unable to confirm this, of course, but the researchers seemed fairly confident and if those girls are any indication, it worked."

"Why are you showing me this?" asked Lelouch, still haunted by the knowledge of how this substance was created and tested.

Asplund seemed to come down from his scientific fervor as he examined his liege and realized that he was letting his scientific curiosity get the better of him. Shame flashed on his face briefly before it disappeared with a blink.

"Because you have a choice to make, Your Highness," he said, far more composed. "This substance was indeed the product of monstrous means, but it also has the potential to give us the edge we need over Britannia. I would love to study this fluid in detail, but this choice is ultimately yours. Give the word, and I will see this research and all of its products destroyed."

Lelouch's eyes met Asplund's, and he realized that the doctor was sincere. Indecision wracked him. The images of the girls on the hospital beds evoked too strongly of Nunnally for him to just accept the use of this substance.

"Let me consider it. I'll inform you once I've decided."

"Of course, Your Highness," acknowledged Asplund and, recognizing the dismissal, he opened the files for the Code R project once more before leaving his liege alone in the laboratory.

* * *

For several hours Lelouch forced himself to peruse the files detailing Code R and the creation of Meld. The sheer, inhuman depravity of the experiments would have sent him fleeing had he seen them before his mother's assassination.

Now, he barely flinched.

He found himself torn between his pragmatism in destroying Britannia and his idealism in creating Nunnally's world. The ice in his veins, the side of him that had accepted C.C's deal without hesitation, bade him to ignore the means through which he obtained the power. It didn't matter. All that did was that it was now his to wield. All he could think of however was the thought of how Nunnally would react to this information.

The indecision split his conscience, leaving him unable to think. The clock on the computer indicated that he had missed the typical meal time, but he didn't care. He'd already received several updates from Kewell and Gottwald that they were moving the trucks in to seize this base for themselves, but he'd barely paid them any attention.

"Staring at that screen won't change the reality of it, you know," came a soft voice from behind him.

He whirled around to see the green-haired witch that had bestowed his Geass upon him, and who was also the subject of the experiment in the image he had been contemplating. She looked much better now than she did this morning, with her hair cleaned and her clothes laundered.

"I know that," he snapped before composing himself and repeating it softly. " _I know that_."

The immortal's expression softened slightly, "You're troubled."

"Of course I am," he sighed, trying to abate his frustration.

C.C perched herself on the corner of a nearby desk and looked at him with an almost motherly demeanor, "Talk it through with me and I'll help you reach a resolution."

"Forgive my rudeness, Miss C.C, but despite our vague arrangement, I have known you for less than a day."

Of all responses, he was not expecting a chuckle, "We're accomplices now, Your Highness. From the moment you accepted my contract, I gained a vested interest in aiding you until your are able to fulfill your end of the agreement; so have faith in the fact that I am willing to aid in your endeavors. Now talk it through with me."

"Any chance you're willing to share the terms of that contract yet?" he mused, and was unsuprised at her snort, "I thought not."

With another sigh, he turned to face the witch, "I've been given the option of keeping or destroying the research derived from your DNA."

"But you're concerned that utilizing this research would go against your sister's vision for the world," she stated rather than asked. Lelouch shivered at the intimacy with which she knew him after their brief otherwordly conversation.

"Succinctly put," he confirmed, "This is monstrous research, only suitable for use by a monster. Were I to use it, I would be no better than those that made it."

The immortal smiled a knowing smile, "Let me offer you a piece of advice someone offered me once. 'I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You're wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, _but some of them are on opposite sides._ '"

C.C chuckled bitterly, "Everyone who ever changed the world was one sort of monster or another."

* * *

As the witch departed, Lelouch sat once more in silence. Her parting words echoed in his head, serving as the tool to reconcile the two warring sides in his mind. Perhaps he didn't have to embody Nunnally's ideals to change the world. Perhaps destruction preceded creation.

' _A monster,_ ' he thought and chuckled. ' _Perhaps that's precisely what I need to become._ '

Like a spanner had been removed, the gears of his mind started turning once more—towards one specific mission.

Nobody had ever brought about meaningful change without destroying the system already in place. To see Nunnally's world built, Britannia would have to be burnt first. Only once it was in cinders would he would use them to build a paradise for his sister.

And he would use any tools at his disposal to do it. For Nunnally.

His course set, he stood from his seat and strode from the room. He found Gottwald standing guard outside the door to the laboratory.

"Is Nunnally asleep?" he asked.

"Yes, Your Highness," confirmed Gottwald. "Miss Shinozaki put her to bed an hour ago, but everyone else is still awake I believe."

"Good," he replied. "Gather them. I've decided our course for the future."

As the knight left to carry out his orders Lelouch navigated back to the lounge from earlier. It was empty now—the Irregulars presumably having gone off with Doctor Asplund. Lelouch seated himself in a chair and contemplated the ornate sigil on the opposite wall. It was the symbol of Geass, he now realized.

Idly, he retrieved a pen and pad of paper from the coffee table, with which he drew the symbol. It was rather crude, resembling the way in which young children draw birds.

He stared at it for a long second, before lazily turning the pad upside-down. Now it resembled a fulcrum from his physics lessons with Asplund.

' _A fulcrum,_ ' he mused, ' _the point upon which something is shifted._ "

"Your Highness," interrupted Gottwald as he entered the room, "Everyone but Princess Nunnally has been gathered as per your orders. They await you in the conference room."

Lelouch followed his protector to the large meeting room near the lounge. It was done with a similar aesthetic style, with a warm oak conference table dominating the lion's share of the available space. Seated around the table were Kewell, Asplund, Sayoko, and the Irregulars. The House Guard stood at attention along the perimeter of the room while C.C leaned smirking in a corner.

As Gottwald took his seat, Lelouch strode to the head of the table.

"Thank you all for coming," he began. "I've been doing much thinking about our future. Ever since our flight from Britannia survival has been our primary concern, preventing us from contemplating further than one move ahead. That ends today. This facility we have seized and the research within present us with an opportunity that before we thought impossible. It presents us with the opportunity to strike back at the nation that has hurt and betrayed us all."

Lelouch gauged the reactions around the room. Kewell and Asplund looked tentatively wary while Gottwald, Sayoko, and the Irregulars seemed to wholeheartedly approve. The House Guard seemed neutral while C.C was completely unreadable.

"My cause for so long has been two-fold: the destruction of Britannia and all that it represents, and the creation of a gentler, peaceful world for Nunnally. Until now, I thought these two causes were irreconcilable. To burn Britannia I would have to become a monster, and monsters do not create. They merely destroy. Now I realize that I was mistaken. Nobody has ever changed the world without getting their hands dirty. I will use any means at my disposal to bring about these two aims."

He stood straighter, seeing the effect his words were having on the room.

"My course is set, and I will see it through no matter the cost. I have no going back. The only question is who among you will join me? Who will become monsters with me to see a tyrant burned and a gentler world created?"

As those in the room sat drawn in by his words, Lelouch averted his gaze and activated the Geass in his eyes—relishing the power that flowed through him.

"I have been bestowed with a Geass: the power of the Kings. With it, I can issue an undeniable command upon any that meet my gaze. Anyone that wishes to leave may do so now, and I will simply remove any memories of this facility from your mind for safety reasons. All who stay, know this: when Spanish explorer Hernan Cortés brought his army to the New World, he burned his ships behind him so that his men understood that their only options were victory or death. There is no going back. All who join me will either see our cause through or die."

Lelouch deactivated his eyes and returned his gaze to those around the room and saw the resolve in them. Despite knowing the answer, he asked the question.

"Now, does anyone want to leave the room?"

Silence reigned, until the sound of a chair scraping carpet resounded as Gottwald stood from his chair and knelt. "From the day you were born, Your Highness, my sword has been yours to wield in whatever cause you deem worthy. If you are set to become the Prince of Monsters, it is only appropriate that you have an equally monstrous knight."

A moment later, Count Soresi stood from his seat and knelt beside Jeremiah, "If you are set on this course, my Prince, then I am bound to follow you. I shall provide you with sound counsel for as long as you require it. Monster or otherwise."

"I have plied my skills for monstrous causes in the past, Your Highness," confessed Asplund as he rose and knelt beside his compatriots, "But never before have they been in service to create a better world. Consider my knowledge at your disposal, my Prince."

On the opposite side of the table, Sayoko met Lelouch's eyes as she knelt, "You put yourself in peril to save me when nobody else would. I could not find a worthier Master to serve. My clan is scattered, possibly slain, but I will rebuild them in your service if you allow it, my Master."

The Irregulars looked at one another in confirmation before they rose as one and joined the adults in kneeling.

"Without you," began Sancia, "we would still be slaves to those animals. We have nowhere else to go. What was done to us was monstrous, and it has made us monsters. Let us burn the country that did this to us, and we will be yours to command."

Finally, the House Guard lining the room knelt one by one. "We served Empress Marianne loyally," said the nearest, "If this is your cause, we shall serve you as well. Even if it means betraying our country."

Lelouch locked eyes with C.C but she simply smirked. ' _I don't kneel_ ,' she seemed to say. He turned back to the kneeling room. "Rise," he said, "From this day forward, we are no longer fugitives, refugees, or prisoners. Today marks the birth of a new organization—an organization that will shift the world into a new order."

As the assembled room rose, Lelouch revealed the inverted Geass sigil he'd drawn in the lounge.

"As of today, we are **_Fulcrum._** "

* * *

The supreme emperor of a nation of over six hundred million souls stared at his wife with an extraordinarily rare expression on his face: complete and utter shock.

"A convergence with the Ragnarok Connection?" he exclaimed, "That's not possible!"

"I'm aware of that dearest," replied an ethereal Marianne testily, "yet it just happened. So either C.C has somehow escaped your brother's custody, which is unlikely, or he has stepped out of bounds _once again._ "

Charles grimaced at the reminder. He prided himself on being able to read his enemies with ease, yet his own brother's assassination attempt on his wife had been completely unexpected. It had been too soon.

Of course, it had been his plan the whole time to fake Marianne's assassination to spark a war with the EU, but then Vincent had gone and done it for real. It was only thanks to Marianne's peculiar Geass that she was still able to operate in a physical form.

Yet with Marianne's premature assassination, he'd been forced to war with Europe years ahead of schedule and it had taken _excruciating_ amounts of money to get the Ashfords to produce Knightmares for him after he'd used their patron's death as a bloody flag to wave.

Fortunately, it seemed that Marianne's little clique of servants had picked up on the breadcrumbs he'd left and absconded with Lelouch and Nunnally to the Chinese Federation. It got them out of the firing line for enemies of Britannia, and Vincent.

And then there was of course the fact to be considered that Vincent had tried to _murder_ his wife.

Needless to say, he had been... _cross_ with his brother.

In his anger, he'd effectively banished the impetuous immortal to Australia to watch over C.C's prison in what amounted to a glorified babysitting job..

But something was going on here—something wrong.

"Bismarck," he addressed to the lurking figure in the corner, "put an order into the OSI. I want to know where my brother is and what he's doing. Now."

The loyal knight nodded as he moved to carry out the command.

"You're worried," observed Marianne.

"This doesn't add up," he explained. "Vincent may be a loose canon at times, but he wouldn't go about creating needless contractors without consulting me—regardless of his feelings. I'm worried we've had complications."

"You don't think C.C escaped, do you?" queried the spirit worriedly.

"I hope not, but it's a possibility," muttered the Emperor before he let out a curse. "It was hell finding capturing her the first time, and that was with surprise on our side. Now, it's going to be like pulling teeth."

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," consoled Marianne. "After all, this may just be a whole big misunderstanding."

Charles grunted in acknowledgement, but he doubted. He knew deep in his heart that this was the start of something much bigger.

* * *

Kyoshiro Tohdoh sat seiza in the war tent as he overlooked the map displaying the known locations of Britannian invaders, which by this point was the entirety of the map.

' _Four weeks_ ," he thought, " _Four weeks was all it took for Japan to fall. All of our honor, our pride, our discipline—dashed against the rocks of the Knightmares._ "

It said a lot that he'd become the highest-ranking officer still living in the Japanese army simply by virtue of a single victory over the machines. With General Katase slain on the field and Prime Minister Kururugi killed in an airstrike, he alone was in charge of Japan's defense.

Cabinet Minister Taizo Kirihara had taken control of the remaining Japanese government, and reports indicated that he was in the midst of surrender negotiation at this very moment.

He sighed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders as he contemplated the document in front of him: an order to prepare for surrender.

Could he really do this to his men? Brave, loyal men of Japan who had fought and died ever since the invasion to keep their homeland free? Would he really be able to march out to the parade ground and tell them that their suffering had been for naught? That their commanders were preparing to bend the knee to their invaders?

It betrayed everything he stood for as a follower of Bushido.

Yet despite all that he couldn't disobey the order. He was bound as a Japanese soldier to obey his orders whether he liked them or not. If the order was to surrender, it was his duty to follow it regardless of personal feelings.

It was an agonizing decision to make, but he was forced to make it.

"General," addressed a voice behind him, and it took him a moment to react to the still-unfamiliar title.

"Yes?"

"A boy has arrived at camp and demanded to see you, sir. He claims to be the son of Genbu Kururugi," said the private.

Tohdoh started in spite of his meditation. Suzaku had survived the airstike? He'd seen the wreckage. Nothing remained of the ancestral Kururugi home.

"Shall I send him away sir?"

"No," said Tohdoh as he snapped out of his trance. "No, bring him to me at once, private."

"Yes sir."

This was likely just a scared orphan boy trying to con his way into the army's protection, but it was a risk he couldn't afford to take. Moments later, the same private returned with a twelve-year old boy in tow.

The son of Genbu Kururugi.

"Suzaku," breathed Tohdoh as he stood from his seiza and barely restrained himself from embracing the youth, "how is this possible? Your home was destroyed? I saw the wreckage!"

"I was out in the woods when the missile was launched, practicing my katas," he said mournfully. "Mother and father are dead."

Seeing that the boy was barely restraining tears, Tohdoh turned to the private. "Leave us," he ordered.

Only once the teacher and student were alone in the tent did Suzaku finally break down.

"Why?" he sobbed, "Why did they have to kill my parents? Father was a politician, not a warrior."

Tohdoh placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder, offering silent consolation. "Because you father was a brave and honorable man. He would never have surrendered to the Britannians. He would have fought to the end, no matter the cost. With him gone, the remaining Japanese government is surrendering as we speak."

"Are you going to surrender to them too?" demanded Suzaku with a betrayed look. "Are you also going to give in to the men that killed my parents?"

That gave Tohdoh pause. Honor dictated that he follow Taizo Kirihara's orders, even if he thought they were wrong.

But how could he say that to the grieving boy sitting before him now, the boy who was the closest thing he'd ever had to a son?

"No," he said, surprising himself. "No I'm not."

As Suzaku looked up at him with hope in his eyes, Tohdoh drew resolve from them.

"We're going to fight them, Suzaku. You and I against the Britannians. We can't fight them now—we've lost this battle, but we haven't lost the war. I-I know of an old bunker in Narita that was supposed to shelter the Prime Minister in the event of an invasion. We'll take all the loyal sons of Japan with us and start a new army, one that will fight Britannia until the bitter end. The way Genbu would have wanted."

Tohdoh strode to the doorway to the tent and poked his head out. "Private!" he barked to one of the soldiers walking by, "Go to the barracks and assemble the men. I want to give an address in ten minutes."

As the private scurried off, Tohdoh stepped back inside and composed himself. Was he really going to do this? What he was planning to do was technically treason.

' _It's what Genbu would have wanted,_ ' he thought once more as he reflected on the man who had been a mentor to him. He retrieved Sukazu and made his way to the camp's impromptu parade grounds where the bedraggled soldiers of the Japanese army were slowly piling into formation.

He felt shame as he beheld the state of his soldiers. The Japanese army, once over a million strong, had been reduced to just a hair over three thousand by the Britannian war machine.

Morale in the camp had been abysmal, and he saw it reflected in the soldiers. Despite his attempts to suppress it, knowledge of the imminent surrender had circulated through the camp and the soldiers were preparing for the news that they had well and truly lost the war to defend their homeland.

As the last soldiers filed in, Tohdoh strode to the microphone at the podium and cleared his throat.

"Honorable soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army," he began, "you have fought well in this war. You have fought when no others would, against a foe that we had no chance of defeating. Every man here has lost brothers, sons, fathers, family, friends, and comrades to the Britannian foe. You have sacrificed more than anyone would ask of you."

The mood deflated further as the soldiers prepared for the final declaration of surrender. Tohdoh removed from the pocket of his uniform the letter he received from Kyoto.

"I ask of you to sacrifice more. Early this morning I received a missive from Interim Prime Minister Taizo Kirihara ordering us to cease all offensive operations against the Britannian military while surrender negotiations are underway."

As the final blow was struck and Tohdoh saw the last remnants of hope begin leaving his men. Right as it was about to be extinguished, he lifted the letter up into the sight of the soldiers, and tore it in half.

"Taizo Kirihara is a traitor to Japan and all that our great nation stands for. Our true Prime Minister, Genbu Kururugi, once said that he would never negotiate with any foreign power that sought to conquer Japan! I follow _his_ orders, not that of some bureaucrat! So I ask of you to stand beside me, all loyal sons of Japan, as we continue the fight against Britannia! We may have lost the land, but the hearts and minds of the Japanese people lay with us! It is our duty to fight for them, regardless of the orders!"

The soldiers in parade felt their dying hope rekindled for the first time since the Miracle of Itsukushima. Several let loose cheers as their general continued his speech.

"The politicians of the Japanese government may give in to those that wish to oppress us, but the soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army will fight on! We will never give in! We will never surrender! Stand with me, brothers, and I promise that I will never rest until the Britannian invaders are repelled from our shores forever! Now who shall join me!?"

Unanimous cheers arose from the soldiers as feet stomped and hats were thrown into the air.

"As of this day, we are no longer the Imperial Japanese Army. Japan has been conquered by the invaders. From this day forward, our cause is to liberate it. We shall dissolve, and reform ourselves as the _Japanese Liberation Front_!"

While the soldiers celebrated, Tohdoh looked down at young Suzaku Kururugi beside him, and saw hope once more in the boy's eyes.

He knew he made the right decision.

* * *

"Where are we going, Naoto?" asked a teary-eyed Kallen as her teenage brother navigated the car through the backroads of Japan to avoid the checkpoints.

"I have a friend in Saitama," explained Naoto as he made another turn to dodge an incoming army truck. "I just hope that bastard made it through the 'pacification'."

Kallen was too physically and emotionally exhausted to ask much else as they traveled in silence. It had been two months since the Japanese government surrendered and the eighteen-year old Carine ne Britannia was appointed as Vicereine of Area 11. She'd brought her own soldiers with her to the area, overwhelmingly composed of Blood Purists.

Naoto and Kallen's father had thought that his status as a Duke would protect him from the occupation forces, only for him and his Japanese wife to be lynched during a Purist-incited pogrom.

Kallen was still haunted by the images she'd seen on the news before Naoto had turned it off—images of her mother and father being hanged from streetlights by a cheering mob of Britannians. The words, 'Race Traitor' had been painted on Kallen's naked and beaten father with her mother's blood.

When Naoto saw the news, he immediately forced Kallen to pack a suitcase as he looted their estate for anything of value to take with them. Once she was finished, he had dragged her into to the family car and roared out of the settlement.

She had been crying since she saw the news on the television, and she was still sobbing when they pulled up outside the newly-built wall around the Saitama ghetto. Driving in would be suicide, as Purist soldiers were charged with maintaining the security around the ghettos—along with occasional expeditions inside to 'pacify' them.

Instead, Naoto led his little sister to a sewer grate and hauled it open. Kallen's nose immediately wrinkled at the smell but she forced herself down into the hole. Naoto followed soon after with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

While the Purists had collapsed the sewer tunnels leading in and out of the ghettos, they hadn't counted on their denizens being able to clear out the rubble blocking the passages. As such, the two Stadtfeld children were able to slip through a small hole in the blocked passageway and enter the ghetto.

As they were about to climb the exit ladder, Naoto put out a hand to stop his sister. "Put this on," he ordered, pulling an oversized black hoodie from his bag, "Don't let them see that you're Britannian."

Kallen did as she was bade. While her features came primarily from her father, Naoto's came from his mother and thus he could pass himself off as Japanese.

The pair exited the sewer into the ghetto. The ruined Japanese town was cramped and miserable. Sick, injured, and starving Japanese lined the streets. Walls that hadn't been cleaned since the last pacification were still stained red with blood. A helicopter with Purist markings soared overhead, it's searchlight sending the citizens of the ghetto scattering.

" _Like a goddamn concentration camp_ ," Naoto muttered in Japanese as he pulled his sister briskly through the cramped and ruined streets.

They walked for about thirty minutes before arriving at a run-down schoolhouse. It seemed abandoned and their were no lights inside despite the late hour.

" _No, no, no,_ " whispered Naoto as he peered inside the dark windows and rattled the locked door. " _Don't tell me you went and got killed like some fool, Ohgi. You were too much of a stubborn bastard for that..._ "

"Well now, that's just rude," came an amused voice from behind them.

The pair whirled to see a man, perhaps twenty-eight, standing with his arms crossed.

"Ohgi!" cried Naoto as he hugged the older man in relief. "You son of a bitch."

"Naoto," replied the teacher gently, "not that I'm not thrilled to see my old student, but what are you doing here? It's not safe."

The eldest Stadtfeld grimaced, looking left and right as another helicopter passed overhead, "Can we talk inside?"

* * *

"Shit," mumbled a stunned Ohgi as he took a drag on his cigarette. He gave the shivering Kallen a once-over before moving to open a trunk in the corner of the abandoned classroom. After retrieving a blanket from it, he wrapped it around the shivering girl.

"I knew the Purists were bastards," he shuddered, "but I never thought they'd go so far as to lynch a duke—even if he was a 'race traitor'."

"Exactly," said Naoto as he stared out the window at the Purist watchtowers lining the ghetto, hatred in his eyes, "if they're willing to do that to a sitting duke, I can't imagine what they'd do to Kallen and I."

"I understand all that, Naoto," confirmed Ohgi, "but I fail to see why you snuck past the Purists to get to me. I'm a _schoolteacher_ for Christ's sake. The best I can do is set you up with a room here with me."

"That's all I need," Naoto pleaded. "That, and someone to vouch for Kallen and I in the neighborhood."

"Naoto, I can't—"

"Please," begged Naoto as he dropped to his knees, "you're the only option we have left. Nearly everyone in this neighborhood was a student of yours at some point. Just tell them that Kallen and I are as Japanese as they are. They'll listen to you."

Ohgi looked down at his formed student, begging on his knees, and sighed.

"Alright."

* * *

General Villetta Nu was living the dream. When she had applied to West Point academy as a mere baroness, she had never expected that one day she would not only be a countess, but also a general, the leader of the Purist Faction's Area 11 chapter, and a member of Carine ne Britannia's trusted retinue.

A Purist at heart herself, the Princess was _tremendously_ sympathetic to their cause, going so far as to place their faction officially in charge of pacifying the country once she'd been made Vicereine.

It was an unprecedented move in the Empire, and so the Purists were determined to prove it the right decision by succeeding in the most rapid pacification of a conquered country in Britannia's history. If a few animals were hurt during their new masters' training, it was hardly the masters' fault after all. Already, only two months after the invasion, all attempts at resistance had been quelled. The savages were piled into walled ghettos patrolled by loyal Purists that understood how to keep the barbarians pacified.

Princess Carine had been so impressed that she'd made promoted Villetta to general and made her a member of her personal retinue, charged with conducting all military operations in the area.

Countess-General Villetta Nu. It had a certain air to it.

Putting those thoughts aside, she adjusted her general's outfit one last time in the floor-length mirror that filled a portion of her walk-in closet—making sure to straighten the distinctive white and red armband that marked members of the Purist Faction.

The Princess was hosting a ball in the recently-constructed Vicereine's Palace in honor of her promotion, and she was to be the guest of honor.

As she exited her expensive hotel room—a necessary evil until her own mansion was finished building—she took the elevator down to the secure parking garage underneath the hotel.

While she was busy fishing her keys out of her purse, a young voice interrupted behind her. "Excuse me madam," it said, "but my watch is broken. Have you got the time?"

Villetta whirled, one hand reflexively going for the ceremonial gun on her hip, only to be confronted by a young black-haired Britannian boy.

A boy with glowing eyes.


	4. Chapter 4: A Demon Emerges

**Hello readers, Neolyph here... again. I know what I said last chapter about not expecting another one so soon, but then this just sort of... happened. I'm not entirely sure how. Regardless, this is when the story proper starts, now that the intro chapters are done. Six year time skip btw before anyone asks. I need sleep now, so enjoy. Read/Favorite/Follow/Review, etc. It really does help. Ciao.**

Chapter 4: A Demon Emerges

As the digital alarm clock ticked to eight o'clock, it tuned to the local news.

" _—in the financial sector, the Ashford Consortium's stock is up four points today as investors prepare for the incoming Knightmare orders as a new front opens in the European conflict. CEO and Duke Reuben Ashford commented on this during a press release, stating that so long as our great nation requires weapons, the Ashford military-industrial complex will provide them to keep our brave soldiers the best in the world._

 _No statement was made however on their response to Prince and Prime Minister Schniezel outsourcing his Knighmare development to his own private think tank Camelot. I don't know about you Lilly, but I think it's clear that while Prince Schneizel may be able to build a better machine, Ashford will remain the king of Knightmare mass-production. In other news, Vicereine Carine ne Brittania released a statement today regarding the investigation into the attacks last month claimed by the terrorist JLF—"_

"Turn it off," moaned Milly Ashford as she rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. Lelouch chuckled at his girlfriend and silenced the radio. It was a little-known secret around Ashford Academy that their perpetually-bubbly student body president actually took about two cups of morning coffee to get a good head of steam going.

As Lelouch rolled out of bed and sought his underwear that had been discarded the previous night—whether by him or Milly he couldn't remember thanks to the alcohol that had been involved—a light rapping on the door resounded.

"Master Lelouch," called one of his maids from the other side, "are you awake? You asked to be reminded of your appointment with Duke Ashford at nine."

' _Shit_ ,' he cursed mentally. He'd forgotten about that completely.

"Thank you Bella," he called back, although that wasn't her real name. All of Sayoko's Shadows abandoned their names once they entered Fulcrum's service. "Could you put some coffee on for Milly? She's not quite up yet, but I think she'll appreciate it once she is."

"Of course, Master."

Now that he was on a timer, Lelouch moved much faster to recover from the previous night's ill-fated bar crawl. It hadn't really been his thing, but Milly loved going out on the Settlement and Lelouch was nothing if not indulgent when it came to those he loved.

He threw himself through a hasty shower before donning a pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a corduroy jacket. As he straightened his tie, he heard Milly begin stirring in the bed behind him. Not wanting the insatiable blonde to try dragging him back for a second round, he beat a hasty retreat.

Descending the stairs from the bedroom of the small mansion the Ashfords had constructed for his and Nunnally's use, Lelouch arrived in the kitchen. Breakfast was in full swing by the time he got down. While Bella brewed a pot of coffee by the stove, her counterpart Lucinda was assisting Nunnally is her meal.

"Bella, Lucinda," he greeted the two Britannian assassins. They were some of Sayoko's earliest recruits—a pair of disenfranchised commoners whose parents were victims of a callous and cruel nobility.

"Master Lelouch," they acknowledged in unison.

"Would you care for some breakfast?" asked Lucinda.

Lelouch's eyes glanced up towards the clock on the wall. "I'm afraid I don't have time for much more than toast," he grimaced.

As the maid prepared two slices for him to take with him, Lelouch quickly moved to greet his sister.

"Good morning angel," he said as he laid a kiss on her forehead.

She giggled at the affection before her face turned teasing, "Good morning to you too, Big Brother. Did you happen to greet anyone else good morning as well? From the sound of it last night, Milly stayed over again."

Lelouch could only redden in embarrassment at the knowledge that he'd forgotten Nunnally's enhanced hearing in his drunken haze.

"Now Mistress Nunnally," chided Bella to his aid as she dabbed Nunnally's mouth with a napkin, "it's not nice to tease your Big Brother like that."

Said brother let out a silent thanks, only to be betrayed as the maid continued.

"After all, it's not like your brother can control his bestial lusts. Every day that goes by I'm surprised he doesn't take them out on my poor defenseless self—Lucinda even more so."

Despite the teasing, Lelouch couldn't suppress a snort. With Sayoko's training and the Meld-based enhancements installed in them, he knew both maids could quite literally take him apart with their bare hands if for some reason the urge struck them. That was why the ninja had assigned them for his and Nunnally's protection while they were at school.

"Now that's hardly fair," chimed in Lucinda as she handed Lelouch a napkin containing two pieces of buttered toast. "After all, given the sounds coming from his room last night, I think Lady Ashford has managed to relieve him for quite a while. Several hours, at the very least."

While the three women giggled at his expense, Lelouch decided that discretion was the better part of valor and made for his meeting with Duke Ashford.

* * *

Lelouch was met in the Academy's parking lot by a hulking figure in a finely-tailored business suit. A pair of dark sunglasses hid his cybernetic eyes, but nothing could hide his relief as his lord finally arrived—allowing him to escape the gawking students passing by.

"Jeremiah," greeted Lelouch, "good morning."

While most members of Fulcrum without a Geass bore some form of Meld enhancements, Lelouch's loyal knight had sacrificed more of himself over the last six years than any other. His eyes had been sacrificed and replaced with enhanced cybernetics capable of magnification, enhancement, thermal imaging, and a host of other features installed by Asplund. His bones had been agonizingly laced with titanium, granting him immense durability. Biofibers had been sewn into his skin, giving it the impact-resistance of Kevlar. His enormous size was the result of multiple implants of vat-grown muscle that was stacked on until the knight was barely even human.

"My lord," Gottwald greeted back. "I've prepared the car for you. If we don't hurry, we'll be late for your meeting."

As Lelouch stepped into the armored black sedan, he saw that his daily report had been left on the seat. While he perused it, Jeremiah strode to the front seat of the car and got in.

The car pulled out of the Academy and into the Ashford Complex proper: a network of stockyards and concrete blockhouses expanding outwards from around the Academy; a veritable nexus of military design, research, and testing sites that was home to the largest military-industrial complex in Britannia. It was a good place to hide the even deeper Fulcrum facility.

Reuben had called him crazy when he'd instructed the grandfatherly industrialist to shell out billions in purchasing a full sixty-percent of the former Tokyo's ruined industrial district, but it had paid off in spades with the Ashford Consortium now able to research, develop, manufacture, and test their military technology all in one place.

While the individual stockyards and facilities had tall concrete walls around them, all of them were connected by wide underground tunnels that traversed the entire complex. These in turn secretly connected to the tunnels leading deeper into the Fulcrum bunker.

Lelouch sighed as he read over the daily report. Kyoto had poached another one of their cells. It was occasional annoyance with the more brash resistance cells that Fulcrum supplied. Most of their cells were kept on training and standby, as Lelouch knew that frequent acts of terrorism would result in heightened security around both the ghettos and the settlement, which would be detrimental to the long-term liberation of Japan.

Of course, a few cells didn't appreciate this attitude and would jump ship to Kyoto and all the short-sightedness that entailed once an offer was made.

Still, it wasn't a terrible loss, Lelouch mused. The cell had been one of their latest recruitments, and had only been supplied with a few crates of medical goods for the Saitama ghetto. They didn't know anything that risked operational security and they had stolen nothing of true value.

It would be an annoyance to replace them though, and necessary since they'd been Fulcrum's only asset in Saitama. They'd have to recruit one of the smaller groups instead.

Irritated, he produced an encrypted cellphone from his pocket and sent a message to Sayoko, ordering her to compile a list of Saitama resistance groups suitable for recruitment. He would be by later to review it.

As he put the cellphone away, the car finally arrived at the main offices of the Ashford Consortium. Lelouch looked down at his watch and let out a curse before stepping out of the still-moving car. His bodyguard quickly finished pulling into the parking spot and hurried after him with a speed and grace that belied his enormous frame.

Moving quickly, Lelouch barely exchanged a glance with the familiar secretary before taking the elevator up to the top floor of the skyscraper. Jeremiah had joined him in the elevator and was currently leveling a disapproving glare at his unrepentant charge's recklessness.

The elevator dinged open and the pair strolled into the spacious penthouse office of CEO and Duke Reuben K. Ashford. The man himself was sitting at a table staring contemplatively at a chessboard set up for play.

"Lelouch, my boy!" he cried, giving a nod to Jeremiah before turning back to his pseudo-grandson, "And here I was thinking you might actually be late for once. Black, I presume?"

The prince smirked.

"Always."

* * *

Several hours later, a meeting was called of the Fulcrum Board of Directors. Around the same table which the organization was established, the board members sat.

The roster was largely unchanged from when the organization was founded, with the only new addition being Reuben Ashford.

Sancia, leader of Lelouch's protection detail, lurked in the corner nearest the door while the other three Irregulars stood guard in the remaining corners. Seated around the table were Jeremiah, Lelouch's knight; Kewell, his chief adviser; Asplund, Fulcrum's chief medical researcher; Reuben, head of production and material research; Sayoko, their head of intelligence; and Mao, their chief interrogator. C.C was not a member of the board, but she often attended their meetings. It seemed she had declined this one, however.

"Hello everyone," welcomed Lelouch as he took his place at the head of the table. "I'm glad we could all make it."

Several affirmations went around before Lelouch spoke again.

"Before I begin, does anyone have anything to report?"

Asplund cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. Lelouch nodded for him to speak. "My work with Reuben on the control rig is going well, Your Highness. It's still in an experimental phase and isn't quite ready for instillation on a subject, but the concept is proven sound. Of course, we're still working on building an interface that can be added to a Knightmare post-production rather than requiring one to be built around it, but that should be relatively simple in the grand scheme of things."

"Good," praised Lelouch, "that project was a long shot and I'm thrilled that its borne results. How soon do you expect them to be ready for instillation?"

Reuben looked contemplative and stroked his beard as he did some quick math. "Perhaps two weeks, Your Highness, for a few select working models. Double that for larger production."

Lelouch gave a satisfied nod. That fit within the timetable.

"Anyone else?" he queried. Sayoko raised her hand to speak.

Unlike Gottwald, the ninja had gone for significantly more subtle enhancements. While she too had opted for a pair of blue cybernetic eyes and biofiber skin like Jeremiah, she had refrained from the slabs of muscle and titanium bone lacing. Instead, she had installed much leaner muscle toner that increased elasticity in her existing muscles, resulting in increased muscle tension and flexibility while still providing a smooth physique.

Her pièce de résistance however was something Asplund had spent quite a while working on: synaptic boosters. The nerve cells making up her spinal cord were both broadened and replicated, allowing for more neural bandwidth and thus lightning-fast reflexes. She could move across a room and snap your neck in the time it would take you to even realize she was there.

"The Shadows have sent in more troubling reports earlier today regarding Kyoto and the JLF. It seems that the Six Houses have at least has gained some inkling of our involvement with various resistance groups, although they fortunately have no idea the scope of our reach. Still, they're a problem that will have to be dealt with before they learn too much. Regarding the JLF, my reports are that they're preparing for another raid on one of the Purist bases along the outskirts of the Settlement."

Lelouch considered the report for several moments.

"Have your Shadows position themselves among the Six Houses. If they ever unveil the masquerade, I want the ability to neutralize them with a word. As for the JFL, we can't afford to let them get Carine's guard up so close to D-Day. Have our Shadows in the JLF sabotage and delay the raid. Give them free operational reign so long as we remain undetected."

Seeing that there were no more reports to give, Lelouch moved on.

"I'll get to the key point of this meeting, then. Kyoto has, once again, poached one of our cells. This time, it was the Blood of the Samurai group in Saitama. This puts us in a disadvantageous position with D-Day on the horizon. We need a cell in every ghetto for the plan to work. Sayoko, do you have the list I requested?"

The assassin nodded. "I do, Master. Unfortunately, the Blood of the Samurai comprised the majority of resistance in Saitama at thirty-some members. The few remaining are either incompetent or zealots. Only the Kozuki group seems to be viable, but it only consists of about ten members and their leader was killed just a week ago."

Lelouch motioned for the list and after it was handed over he perused it himself. It seemed that Sayoko's summation had been spot on. Only the Kozuki cell was suitable for approach, but a ten members they were barely worth the time and effort.

Yet at the same time, they _needed_ a cell in Saitama for D-Day to succeed.

"Send a Shadow to approach them," he sighed. It was going to be a pain in the ass to operate this cell.

As Sayoko nodded, Kewell interrupted. "If I may, Your Highness," he interjected, "we _have_ been looking for a cell to establish Zero with. You'll have to lead one on D-Day, and succeeding in your mission with only ten members of a ragtag cell would be quite the accomplishment to found Zero's reputation. Not to mention, with a cell this size, they might need your personal guidance to succeed starting out. They could form the core of the Black Knights."

Humming, Lelouch considered this for a moment. Soresi had a very definite point.

"That's an excellent suggestion Soresi," he remarked. "Change of plans, Sayoko. Have the Shadows get me everything they can on the members of the Kozuki group; names, backgrounds, experience, everything. If one of them has a birthmark shaped like the Emperor's head, I want to know about it."

"It will be done, Master," acknowledged the ninja obediently.

After a brief moment of consideration, Lelouch added on, "Also, have the leader of the Blood of the Samurai and his command staff killed. Not only did they betray our agreement, but it will cause problems if the group starts acting out before D-Day. I want them disorganized and unable to act until then."

The assassin nodded once more.

"Is there anything else that needs to be addressed?" Lelouch queried the room. Nobody replied.

"Alright then. Meeting adjourned."

* * *

While the room emptied, Lelouch took an opportunity to relax in the chair. A tugging on his sleeve interrupted him.

"Big Brother," mewled Mao as she climbed into his lap like a cat. He let loose a mental sigh, knowing what she wanted. He shifted in his seat, readjusting so that the girl wasn't in quite as _sensitive_ places. This had been much easier when she was younger—and smaller. And she didn't have the... assets she currently possessed.

He brushed her long purple hair with his fingers as she melted into his embrace.

In all honesty he probably shouldn't have crossed the line he did with her, but he had sworn to her all those years ago that he would do what it took to take care of her for as long as she needed. He just didn't think that she would turn around and use that as an argument several years later when she started getting _urges_ towards him.

Still, the mind-reader had wormed her way into his heart, and he would go to extraordinary lengths to indulge those he cared about. Just like he did with Milly's wild streak or Sayoko's budding taste for submission.

Reaching over, he locked the door to the conference room before turning back to the girl in his lap.

" _Only because D-Day's coming and I'll be very busy soon, okay?_ " he murmured into her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"Okay, Big Brother," she agreed.

* * *

"You need to come out of here eventually Kallen."

The redhead ignored Ohgi as she continued flipping her butterfly knife. The name Japanese letters for "Kallen" were inscribed on the handle in what was undeniably expert craftsmanship. Despite how tight money had been in the last few years, Naoto had shelled out God-knows how much money to get the knife made for her as a birthday present.

And now he was gone. Not even during one of their handful of raids as a resistance cell either. Just at the hands of a few bored Purists who thought he looked 'suspicious' and decided to rectify that with their batons.

He hadn't even been recognizable by the time they were done. She'd been forced to identify him by his shoes since the guards had robbed him of everything else.

"It's been a week."

She could still see him, happy and smiling as he whirled her around her bedroom while they listened to stupid Japanese pop songs.

Only now it was tainted as she saw his caved-in face beside her father's naked, hanging body and her mother's mutilated corpse. Every time she closed her eyes the images came back.

"You need to sleep. You need to eat."

She hated them. She hated everyone. Everything.

"I promised Naoto—"

He was cut off and forced to duck as the knife went sailing through where his head had been just a second ago. It embedded itself in the wall with a wooden thunk.

" _Don't_ say his name," she hissed venomously without even turning.

Ohgi agonized as he saw the little girl he'd taken in with her brother all those years ago tear herself apart with hatred. He'd seen this happen to friends before, and it never ended well. It had nearly happened to him when the Britannians had killed his wife during one of their 'pacifications'.

He sighed and slumped against the crumbling wall of the abandoned schoolhouse they were still using as their resistance headquarters.

How had things come to this? He remembered just seven years ago when Japan had still been Japan. Things had been so simple.

Aged and yellowed papers rustled as wind blew through one of the shattered windows.

Someone else was in there with them.

He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he did. Drawing the aged pistol from his belt he whirled around and aimed it at the shadowy corner behind him. Peering into the darkness, nothing seemed out of place. He wondered for a second if he'd imagined it. It wouldn't be the first trick stress had played on him.

"Fine craftsmanship," remarked a feminine voice from behind him.

Ohgi tried to spin back around with his gun only to have his arm snatched midway and the pistol effortlessly wrenched from his grip. He fell to the ground and found himself staring up at the back of a figure dressed in a black hooded coat with dark utilitarian pants. It was an outfit that nobody would look twice at around the ghetto, where nobody wanted to be noticed. Her face was turned away from him, his gun held absently in her left hand.

Despite her disarming him, Ohgi realized that she hadn't even looked at him during the entire maneuver. Instead, her attention seemed solely focused on the butterfly knife still embedded in the wall.

Kallen had realized the intrusion by this point, but having already thrown her knife she was currently unarmed. She looked between Ohgi and the woman, realizing that an attack just may get him killed.

" _Kallen_ ," read the woman as she inspected the blade's handle. With ease she removed it from the wall and gave it an experimental flip. "Nicely weighted," she remarked.

Finally, she turned to face the pair. In addition to the hood, her hair and face were further obscured by a blank white mask. Its only distinguishing features were a thin red line where the mouth would be, and a grey emblem depicting a broken chain across the forehead.

"A gift from your brother, I take it?" she asked, flipping the knife closed and latching it.

Already angry at the woman's handling of her brother's last gift, Kallen was barely able to restrain herself from assaulting the woman then and there—Ohgi or no. "Yes," she growled, "the last thing he gave me before he was killed by the Purists."

The hooded woman somehow managed to convey a grim smirk through her mask. "I can feel your hatred for them. I felt something very much like that once: anger... and impotence. I wanted to hurt them so badly, but I knew that I couldn't. They were too strong to fight. I was in a dark place, just like you. I only saw one way out. But then someone came along and showed me the way. He showed me how to fight them in a way that _would_ hurt them."

Despite herself, Kallen found herself entranced by the words. It was as if the masked woman were bringing Kallen's feelings and desires into words. Placing Ohgi's gun in her pocket, the hooded figure withdrew a plain black card and set it on the table before impaling it with the butterfly knife.

"If you ever want to make a difference in the fight against Britannia, to see it _burn_ before you, then come to this location tomorrow evening. Make the offer to your whole cell, but know that any who fail to arrive that day will have the offer closed to them."

As the woman turned to leave, Kallen found herself calling out without thinking. "Wait!" she cried desperately.

The masked head swiveled back slightly. Kallen gulped. "The man. The one who showed you how to hurt Britannia. Who is he?"

A melodic chuckle tinkled out from behind the mask.

"He goes by many names. You though, you'll come to know him as Master Zero."

* * *

"Harder, Master!" cried a bound Sayoko as Lelouch thrusted once more.

After his late night with Milly and his quickie with Mao in the conference room, Lelouch had felt it only fair to show Sayoko some affection before he got too caught up in his role as Zero. That said affection involved rope and a maid's uniform was just part of his indulgence to the desires of his partners.

He still wasn't entirely sure how this relationship had developed. While Sayoko had always been devoted to him, he didn't know at what point that devotion had turned romantic. All he knew was that when he started publicly dating Milly to help keep other would-be suitors around Ashford off her back, it had pushed the Kunoichi into confessing her feelings.

Apparently, there was a long tradition of Shinozaki women serving as wives, or sometimes mistresses, to their chosen masters. Or at least that was the argument Sayoko gave as she propositioned him.

He'd consulted Milly on it, which was probably a mistake considering the energetic blonde had immediately dragged the ninja to bed with the both of them with all the tact of a bulldozer.

Despite Sayoko's... _appreciation_ for the ménage à trois, Lelouch made sure to occasionally give her some one-on-one time to ensure that they maintained a certain degree of intimacy.

This was not one of those times.

A naked Milly Ashford came up on Lelouch from the side, brushing her breasts against his arm as she forced her tongue down his throat. Lelouch reciprocated but didn't let it disrupt his pace as he continued pleasuring the restrained Sayoko.

Right as the ninja climaxed, Lelouch felt a disturbance in the air. It wasn't Bella or Lucinda, as he'd sent them to take Nunnally out to the park to ensure that he didn't suffer a repeat of the previous morning.

Breaking from Milly's ministrations, he turned his head slightly and without looking or caring for his current position he barked out a strict, "Report."

"The Kozuki group has been successfully contacted, Master," replied the Shadow without a hint of embarrassment or emotion. After Sayoko's training and indoctrination methods, almost nothing could make a Shadow break discipline.

"I see," muttered Lelouch as Milly looked past him to glare at the intruder. "And Kallen Kozuki?"

"She'll be bent to your cause, Master. I saw the hatred in her eyes. She'll go to the meeting, and will be molded to your purpose just as I was."

Lelouch smiled. The members of the Kozuki Resistance Group had been largely unremarkable; your average collection of idealists, young hooligans, and thrill-seekers.

But one file had stood out. The young Stadtfeld heiress' file had intrigued him. It read very similarly to his own: murdered parents, single remaining sibling, forced to flee in the night, took refuge in a hostile territory, planned rebellion. Except in Kallen's case, the brother had just recently died in a brutal yet random act of racist violence.

It was the perfect storm to bind someone to his will. With the right words and actions, he'd possibly have a new recruit for Fulcrum. No other resistance groups had anyone that made such ideal candidates—not that Sayoko hadn't already recruited anyway.

But Lelouch didn't see Kallen becoming a Shadow. He could feel that she was destined for something... special.

Really, Kallen was the only one in the cell he didn't consider expendable. In hindsight, he'd realized that he could most likely pull off the Saitama portion of D-Day with some clever use of the Shadows and Jeremiah, but he'd still require some locals to be involved to ensure that it was attributed to Zero. Kallen would serve nicely for that, although he'd probably still try to recruit her cell just to have some disposable bodies to work with.

"Well done Kage," he praised. "Return to your duties."

"Yes, my Master."

Once the Shadow disappeared through the window, Lelouch turned back to see an irritated Milly glaring at him. He knew that he was going to be making this up to her for the next half hour.

"Sayoko," he ordered the bound woman that he was still straddling, "once we're done here I'll need you to prepare my Zero outfit."

The Kunoichi was still too deep in post-orgasmic bliss to speak, but she managed a shaky nod.

"You'll have work tomorrow then, I take it?" sighed a disappointed Milly.

"Aye," he said apologetically, "it'll likely be a while before we can do something like this again. That's why I wanted to make it a bit special."

Milly's pout quickly reformed into a smirk as she pushed him on his back and positioned her mouth over his still-erect member, "Well, if my hard-working boyfriend has work to do, what can I do but help relieve his stress?"

As the blonde set to work, Lelouch leaned back let loose an involuntary moan.

' _What a way to start a revolution._ '

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right place?" whined Tamaki as the group arrived outside an abandoned office building.

It was one of the few that hadn't collapsed yet due to either damage or neglect. That was most likely because of its location right next to the section of the ghetto's border wall that was adjacent to the Saitama Purist Base. If the Purists let it fall over, it could damage a large section of the wall, or even the base itself.

"Of course it is, fucknut," snapped Kallen. Ohgi frowned in concern; ever since that masked woman's visit, Kallen's behavior had been... worrying. She'd finally broken out of her depression, but it had been replaced with a borderline obsession over this 'Zero' figure. She'd been increasingly hostile when it came to any argument against going to the meeting. He could have sworn during their meeting over this that she'd nearly drawn her butterfly knife when Tamaki had protested the trip because he had a date.

Putting his fears to the side for the moment, he tentatively led the group into the reception area. It was as rundown as the rest of the building, but it looked like someone had been here recently. There was a set of enormous bootprints in the dust coating the floor, leading towards the staircase.

"Proceed up the stairs to the top floor," instructed a masculine, synthesized voice that seemed to emanate from the walls. Ohgi looked around, but couldn't identify the source.

"The top floor?" Tamaki complained. "This had to be a fifty-story building! Who does this guy think he is?"

Kallen leveled a venomous glare at the brash resistance fighter as she moved towards the staircase. "Tamaki, shut the fuck up," she growled through gritted teeth. The newest recruit made to protest, but a look from Ohgi silenced him.

With a heavy silence and uncertainty hanging over them, the Kozuki Resistance Group traveled up the stairs until they reached the top floor. An out of breath Tamaki was muttering curses with each exhale, but at least he kept them quiet. Fingering the holdout pistol in his jacket, Ohgi gingerly pushed the door open and found himself stepping into a cleared-out executive office with wide windows wrapping around all three walls.

The group cautiously entered the office and approached the center of the room. Looking out, the border wall was aligned nearly dead-center on the middle window.

"Move to the window," ordered the same voice from before. Wary glances were exchanged, but Kallen marched right up to the window and peered out. Once she was there, the voice spoke again. "Look to your right and tell me what you see."

Without hesitation, Kallen looked out at the ghetto. "I see our people, herded into a cage like animals, slowly starved and weeded out by a tyrant too cruel to simply kill us outright."

"Good," crowed the voice. "And to the left?"

Kallen turned towards the Purist Base on the opposite of the wall. She scrutinized it for a long moment. "I see the enemy," she said simply; pure, visceral hatred lacing every syllable of her words.

The voice chuckled darkly over the speakers, "Go to the roof. It's time we meet."

Not even looking back at her group, Kallen whirled and returned to the doorway. Ohgi and the others scrambled after her, barely able to keep up with her rapid pace. The door to the roof was unlocked, and they stepped blinking out into the sunset.

They were faced with a male figure dressed identically to the woman that had delivered their message, with the exception of his mask—black instead of white, and instead of a broken chain it displayed across its forehead a red marking that resembled an upside-down bird in flight.

He was flanked by two equally-uniformed companions. The lithe female on his right bore a white mask adorned with a grey skull. The man on his left's white mask carried a purple _fleur de lis_.

Ohgi strode to the front of the group. "Are you Zero, the one that sent the message?" he addressed the middle individual.

"Yes," he confirmed. His mask was aimed right at him, yet Ohgi got the uneasy feeling that his attention was focused on Kallen. "I am Zero. Did you enjoy my tour of the settlement?"

"Your tour?" sneered Tamaki. "Are we seriously listening to this joker?"

The masked man continued on as if the resistance fighter hadn't spoken at all. "I wanted to highlight the difference between the two: the stolen lands taken by the Purists, and the Japanese 'reservation'."

"We know that," said Ohgi, irritated. "There's a huge difference between us and them. It's why we fight them."

To his surprise, the so-called 'Zero' chucked. "Do you truly believe that Britannia will fall to petty terrorism? That Emperor Charles vi Britannia will decide to pack up and go home because the Kozuki Resistance Group blew up some trucks and shot at some soldiers? You're naive fools."

"Why you son of a—" snapped Tamaki as he fumbled for his holdout pistol, only to let loose a whimper of pain as an enormous gloved hand lunged out and twisted his wrist until the gun clattered to the ground.

As the man fell, nursing his abused wrist, the remainder of the group turned and found themselves face-to-chest with a towering brute clad identically to his companions—the only variation once again being his mask; white with an orange shield painted on.

"Thank you, Mr. Orange," said Zero congenially before returning to his speech. "As I was saying: if you wish to hurt the Purists and all that they represent, there are far more effective ways than what you've been doing."

"And what way is that?" demanded Kallen, unable to fight the desperation edging into her voice.

" _My way_ ," purred the masked man.

The collective group froze at the inflection of the voice. Despite its synthesized nature, they could tell that it was the voice of one _intimately_ familiar with winning.

"In approximately one month's time," he continued, "I will be conducting an operation that will be the first domino in a chain that will culminate in the ousting of Britannian forces from Japan's shores and the complete and utter destruction of the Purist faction. If you agree to my terms, you will be the finger that tips the domino."

Kallen eyed the figure in something rapidly approaching awe. This man was offering her everything she wanted. Despite herself, she couldn't help but be drawn in by the sheer confidence in his voice. He didn't just think that this would succeed, he _knew_ it.

"Why should we trust you?" challenged Ohgi. "This is grand talk for a man hiding behind a mask, Zero. How do you expect us to play along with this scheme of yours if you and your friends here aren't even willing to trust us with your faces?"

The black mask directed itself towards Ohgi once more, and he got the distinct impression that it was smirking. "Well that's simply the way of it, Kaname Ohgi. If you join me, you'll simply have to reconcile with the fact that my associates and I operate from behind a veil of secrecy—as any proper covert organization should. Any who are unwilling to accept that are free to walk back down those stairs and return to a life of useless mediocrity."

Glances were exchanged between the various assembled fighters. The only exception was Kallen, who was staring resolute at Zero. Her mind had been made up from the second she'd stepped onto the roof, even if she had just now realized it.

As half the assembled fighters eventually turned and peeled off back towards the staircase, Lelouch nodded for Jeremiah to let them pass—although Sayoko beside him was under orders to make note of their names to have the Shadows take care of later. He wouldn't let D-Day be jeopardized by a few loose lips.

Remaining on the rooftop were Kallen, Ohgi, Tamaki, Naomi Inoue, and Toru Yoshida. Lelouch mentally shrugged. It wasn't much, but he could work with it. Kallen he could see was now firmly in his sway, and that was what mattered.

"I take it by your remaining that you agree to my terms?"

"Yes, Zero," said Kallen eagerly, even as Ohgi had been opening his mouth to give his own response. "What now?"

"Now?" said a satisfied Lelouch as the pieces fell into place. "Now, we prepare for D-Day."

* * *

"Have you ever used one of these?" queried Zero as he led the group into the basement of the building where a set of ten Knightmare simulators were set up for use. At their hesitant head shakes, he opened one up to display the interior.

"Well take a good look," he said, "because you're going to be spending most of the next month in one. It's a Knightmare frame training simulator."

"Knightmares!" cried Kallen as her intrigue shot through the roof. "Where did you get you hands on Knightmares?"

"Are you with Kyoto?" queried Ohgi, suddenly afraid of the possible disrespect he'd shown.

Chuckles resounded from Zero and his companions respectively identified as Ms. Black, Mr. Green, and Mr. Orange. "No," answered a bemused Green, "we're not with Kyoto. Knightmares are easier to acquire than you would think for those with the right connections."

Kallen stared at the simulators with sheer reverence in her eyes. The only resistance group that had ever been able to get their hands on working Knightmares had been the JLF. The fact that Zero was preparing them for their use was beyond amazing.

"We'll be running you through some basic diagnostics," explained Zero. "Nothing intensive, just a baseline test to determine your aptitude for piloting. Once that's been established, we'll use it to start running you through some training scenarios."

Resolve welled up inside Kallen. A Knightmare was the ultimate killing machine, an unmatched vehicle of war that dominated any battlefield it entered.

And she was going to use one on the Purists.

As she and the group were led into a small room with a set of lockers. They were each given a tight black jumpsuit designed for use by Knightmare pilots, which they quickly changed into.

Back in the room with the simulators, the remaining members of the Kozuki cell each sat down in the simulators and the doors were shut on them. The interior was designed to be identical to that of a Sutherland's—and once inside the main screen lit up and began loading an aptitude test.

Kallen intuitively gripped the two primary joysticks, fire in her eyes.

She was not going to fuck this up.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the scenario was powering down and Lelouch was staring dumbfounded at Kewell as he reported the readouts.

"Eighty-four percent proficiency?" he repeated in shock. "This is the first time she's ever used one! She _can't_ be that high! That puts her within the 'ace' ranking without any training! Are you sure the readouts are correct?"

"Quite certain, Your Highness," answered an equally-shocked Kewell as he double-checked the computer. "The other members came out within expected levels. Kaname peaked with twenty-six, while the irritating one came out lowest with a solid seven."

Lelouch grunted in acknowledgement as he turned the computer screen towards himself and tapped a few keys, bringing up the feed from Kallen's simulation. He watched as she figured out the basic navigational controls in seconds and was soon speedily piloting along the practice course.

Once her slash harkens were enabled, she quickly worked them out too and knocked out all of the provided targets. She went even further by using them to fling herself through the obstacle course. By this point, it was practically no surprise when her Knightmare rifle was unlocked that she demolished the training drones effortlessly. She finished the course in record time, a full twenty minutes before anyone else.

This was beyond intuitive. This was... prodigious. It was like witnessing the first time da Vinci ever picked up a paint brush—or Mozart sat down at a piano.

He knew there'd been something special about her.

With the test complete, the simulators popped open with the hiss of pressurized air being released. Four woozy resistance fighters stumbled out of the pods, with a green-faced Tamaki immediately rushing for the nearby trashcan and emptying his guts into it.

Kallen though, she emerged from the simulator with a _grin._ It was a feral sort of look, the kind worn by a mouse who after years of terror has not only just procured a rifle, but whom has also discovered the address of the local tomcat.

Lelouch thought it suited her.

Ensuring that his mask was still secured, he strode back out of the computer room with Sayoko and Gottwald at his heels.

As he entered the simulator room once again, he started politely clapping his gloved hands. Kewell came in and led the four other resistance fighters back to the changing room as he began giving them their schedule for the next month, but Lelouch put a hand out and stopped Kallen.

"Kallen," he asked, "do you have any experience with Knightmare frames?"

"No," she answered confused, "but it seemed pretty intuitive. Why?"

"You just took a test designed to evaluate Knightmare pilots for the Britannian military. It measures base aptitude as a percentage. Your typical trained pilot averages around sixty to seventy percent proficiency. Do you know what your score was?"

Fear and worry flashed in her eyes, "No, Master Zero. I don't."

Internally smiling at her use of the appellation preferred by the Shadows, he reinforced it with a firm, mentorly grasp on the shoulder. "You scored an _eighty-four percent_ proficiency on your first try—marking you at ace-level with absolutely no training or instruction. A bit of training... and even I can't say how far you'd go."

The redhead looked at the hand on her shoulders, a series of conflicting emotions flashed across her face before one finally came out the victor.

"Thank you," she said, a burgeoning need to please him clear in her voice, "Master Zero."

As he contemplated her momentarily, a developing idea formed in his head. It was a long shot, but it would be the key to cementing her loyalty if successful.

"I have a special project," he informed her suddenly. "It wasn't something I was planning to use during the operation next month as it's not even really finished yet, but you... I think will be able to make use of it far more than I ever could."

"Me?" she asked in shock at the trust placed in her. "Are you sure?"

Lelouch nodded. "I warn you though, you'll never be the same afterwards. In exchange though, you will become an unstoppable titan on the battlefield. No Purist alive will be safe from you once its installed."

"What is it?" she begged. Whatever this was, she _needed_ it.

"My researchers call it a control rig."

* * *

Two weeks after Kallen desperately accepted his offer and Lelouch placed a rush order on a single functional control rig, the redhead was placed blindfolded in a sedan with blacked-out windows and driven to the secret entrance of the Fulcrum base under Ashford Academy.

Once inside, she was brought, still blindfolded, to the surgical center of the facility. Two of Asplund's orderlies in the standard Fulcrum uniform of a black hooded coat, black utilitarian pants, and a personalized white mask led her to a hospital bed and prepared her for surgery. Only once her room was secured was the blindfold removed.

She was still blinking and adjusting to the light when a masked Asplund entered the room.

"Kallen," introduced Lelouch as he indicated towards the white mask that bore a red double-helix, "this is Dr. Blue. He'll be the one performing your surgery today. Do precisely as he says and you'll be fine. He's the most intelligent man I know. You're in good hands."

As he turned to leave the room, Kallen surprised him.

"Wait!" she called frantically. He turned back around and saw her immediately become sheepish.

"Can you..." she asked embarrassed, "Can you stay here, just until they put me under? I always hated hospitals and it's what Naoto used to do for me."

"Of course," he said gently without a hint of the bemusement he felt, taking a seat beside her and going so far as to grasp her hand comfortingly. Her reddened cheeks turned scorching as she averted her gaze.

Asplund moved to the surgical table beside the bed and retrieved a clear mask attached by a hose to a nearby tank. With steady hands, he placed the mask over Kallen's mouth and nose before turning the pump on.

"Count back from ten Miss Kozuki," he instructed calmly.

She began doing so, her face suddenly looking so fragile and vulnerable as the drug took effect. By the time she reached three, she was under. Lelouch gave her hand one last comforting squeeze before rising.

"No mistakes, Asplund. She's far too valuable to loose due to complications."

"Now, Your Highness, when have you ever known me to make a mistake?"

* * *

 _The control rig was the brain-child of Thomas Asplund and Reuben Ashford. It's base idea was a direct neural implant that harnessed the raw data-coordinating and synchronization power of the middle brain and used it for the express purpose of directly manipulating rigged Knightmares._

 _Essentially, control of the Knightmare would be directly inputted from the mind without the intervention of the body. To the pilot, they would_ be _the Knightmare. Their eyes would be the factsphere. Their feet would be the landspeeders._

 _This would in theory circumvent the existing problem the Camelot project was having with their frame the Lancelot. The seventh-generation frame was leagues above a Sutherland, but they couldn't find a devicer able to pilot it. Even most Knights of the Round lacked the capability and sheer reflexes required to physically operate the manual controls while moving at the frame's immense speed—rendering its physical enhancements null and void._

 _With a control rig, any random pilot would be able to pilot any machine, regardless of its capabilities. An ace pilot like Kallen would become unstoppable as she simply operated on a level above any other devicer._

 _Jeremiah may have been an excellent pilot, but he'd been too enhanced before the idea had been conceived. If they added any more Meld-enhancements to his body, there was a genuine risk that his soul would cease recognizing it as his. Lelouch couldn't do it, as they had discovered long ago that Geass did_ not _mix with Meld. For some reason, the combination of the two in a subject created rather... volatile results._

 _So in reality it was rather fortuitous that Miss Kozuki had come along when she did. It both created an effective and loyal asset that bridged the gap between Fulcrum and the soon-to-be Black Knights, and provided a convenient test subject for the control rig. It was very efficient._

 _Precisely Lelouch's brand of efficient._

* * *

Inhuman.

That was how Kallen felt as she'd awoken in the hospital bed. She'd known what they were going to install, but she was still leagues from prepared for the sensation of having an implant in her brain that connected out to the back of her head.

After a week of recovery, she was ready to try it out. Instead of the masked orderlies like she'd expected, Zero himself had arrived to take her to the Knightmare bay. She was also allowed to traverse the facility without a blindfold. She still wasn't sure what to make of the show of trust. It felt good though, like she'd proven herself.

She nearly gasped when she saw the Knightmare, a Sutherland painted black and highlighted with red trimmings. The faceplate was painted white, giving it the impression of being in the same uniform all of Zero's people wore.

With the assistance of a small lift built into the frame, she climbed up into the cockpit. It matched the layout from the simulator she'd used three weeks ago. The only difference was a small port in the headrest that lined up perfectly with the jack in the back of her head. Gingerly, she reached up towards the jack and grasped the cable. It spun out on a spool, providing her ample length to connect it to the port.

Doing so was...

There was no word to describe the feeling. Nobody in human history has ever had to invent a word to describe the feeling of your consciousness suddenly being uplinked to a four ton war machine.

Instead of fighting it, she gave in and let her mind drift into the Knightmare frame.

She opened her eyes, and saw the Knightmare bay. Her gaze drifted down and she saw Zero, Mr. Orange, Ms. Black, and Dr. Blue looking up at her with inscrutable expressions on account of the masks.

With a shriek of tearing metal, she ripped herself off the docking port to which she was attached. Several hoses disconnected involuntarily and technicians quickly cut them off.

She was no longer piloting a Knightmare.

She _was_ a Knightmare.

And she'd make sure the Purists learned that.


	5. Chapter 5: D-Day

**Hello again readers, Neolyph here! Several questions arose in reviews about what happened to V.V. Don't worry, we'll get to what happened to our immortal next chapter. Also, as for questions as to why Lelouch doesn't have any Meld enhancements, I noted it last chapter but it was a but buried. Due to the fact that Meld is extracted from a Code-bearer, it does _not_ react well when implemented on an existing Geass user. Meld and Geass are incompatible, essentially.**

 **That said, enjoy the show!**

Chapter 5: D-Day

' _Tonight's the night._ '

That was the thought going through Lelouch's mind as he poured over maps of the six ghettos that currently contained the entirety of Area 11's Japanese population. His analytical mind ran the scenarios through over and over again, searching for unaccounted variables or weaknesses.

Tonight was the night that would be the culmination of everything he'd worked for in the last six years. This was the night his insurrection begins.

It felt good.

Tokens on the maps represented the planned locations of the Knightmares the other five cells would be supplied with. So long as they followed the plans given to them—likely, since they'd followed his shadowy lead for this long—then he was assured of his success.

He gave his outfit a final once over in the reflective screen of his war room's table. His revolver was secure in its shoulder-holster, and his mask was perfectly fastened.

"Master Lelouch," reminded a uniformed Sancia from the corner, "it's time."

"Thank you," he replied. "Prepare the equipment for you and your sisters. Once it's loaded, join me in the Knightmare bay." The black-haired woman nodded and moved to ready herself.

With a deep breath, he retrieved a case, strode from the war room, and traversed the facility to the Knightmare bay where a nervous Kallen paced.

She didn't notice his approach, which resulted in her jumping in the air when he cleared his throat. "Zero!" she shrieked.

He chuckled silently behind his mask. "Are you ready for tonight, Kallen?"

The redhead gulped, unconsciously reaching up and stroking the small port on the back of her head, but she eventually composed herself. "Yes," she said. "It's time I avenged my brother, and my parents."

"I think so too," agreed Lelouch. "I've given you all the tools you need to take your vengeance. Believe me when I say that I want this just as much as you. You're one of us now, Kallen. That's why I wanted to give you this."

He set the case he'd been carrying on the table beside Kallen. She looked at it with surprise.

"What is it?" she asked.

Lelouch just observed her stoically. "Open it and see."

Gingerly, as if it would break were she to open it wrong, Kallen lifted the lid of the case and gasped. Inside, on a bed of satin, was a blank white mask. On each side of it were vials of differently-colored paints and several brushes of varying sizes were fitted into the lid.

"I-" she stammered, unable to find the right words to confess her feelings.

"Traditionally," said Lelouch, "Fulcrum initiates adorn their mask themselves. Their personal emblem is typically something of individual significance to them."

"Fulcrum?" Kallen asked, unable to draw her gaze from the mask. Her mask.

Lelouch nodded. "Fulcrum. It's a group I founded many years ago. We're rather like the Six Houses of Kyoto, except with more imagination and ambition. We don't seek the revival of the old Japan. It's long dead and gone. Instead, we seek the death of Britannia by any means, and from its ashes we will build a new, better Japan—the Japan your brother sought. And now, you'll be part of it."

Kallen opened her mouth to ask a million questions, but Lelouch cut her off with his gloved hand. "There will be time to explain our organization more in-depth after tonight. For now, paint your mask and ready for war. The rest of your uniform in under the bottom of the case. I hope you don't mind, but I took your measurements while you were being operated on."

He immediately turned and departed, smiling wickedly under his mask. It didn't take eyes in the back of his head to know that the redhead's face was currently doing a passable impersonation of her hair. After this operation, she would belong to him utterly.

* * *

As Zero departed, Kallen couldn't help but watch him. She was blushing furiously from his offhanded comment, but other emotions were taking precedence. She still wasn't quite sure how to define her feelings for the masked revolutionary. Respect? Admiration? Desire?

In the last few weeks, he'd rescued her from the suffocating grief she was left in after her brother's murder and set her on the path of vengeance instead. If he hadn't come along... she wasn't sure what she would have done in her anguish. He'd taken a tremendous risk on her, bringing her into his sanctum and installing a ludicrously expensive piece of experimental equipment into her simply to better facilitate her revenge. She owed him immensely and she was determined to prove her worth.

Looking down at the mask, yet another sign of his faith, she retrieved a thin calligraphy brush from the case. Opening a bottle of blood red paint, she dipped the brush.

It was slow work, and she was forced to concentrate immensely so as to avoid any runoff or mistakes.

After several minutes, though, it was finished. Stepping back, she placed the wet brush back into the vial and beheld the rapidly drying mask. Painted across the forehead of the white mask was a red symbol.

The kanji symbol for ' _Revenge_.'

* * *

 _[21:00 Britannian Military Time]_

 _[Three hours to D-Day]_

* * *

A convoy of six trucks drove through the dying light. These were not normal Britannian cargo trucks however. Each was driven by a uniformed Japanese Fulcrum member, and each carried a volatile cargo.

Following behind the truck bound for the Saitama ghetto was a large black SUV containing the leader of the impending revolution. He was accompanied by his Knight Jeremiah, who was driving; Sancia, Alice, Dalque, and Lucretia—his frontline bodyguards; and Kallen Kozuki, the newest recruit who was shifting uncomfortably in her hood and mask.

Under normal circumstances Sayoko would have accompanied her Master on a mission like this, but she was currently dispatched to supervise her underlings as they accomplished their portion of the insurrection.

No words were spoken in the car. Each individual was preparing themselves for the upcoming slaughter.

Each time they passed a ramp leading to one of the ghettos, a truck would break off from the convoy and make for its destination within the reservation to deliver its cargo to the cell there.

A cargo consisting of a single outfitted Fulcrum Sutherland; enough rifles, RPGs, and body armor to equip the ground fighters; a large volume of plastic explosives; and multiple crates of miniaturized chaos mines developed specially by Reuben for this mission. Of course, to cover their tracks the blueprints had been leaked to the EU several months ago.

Five trucks peeled off in the directions of Shinjuku, Fukuoka, Matsumoto, Kyoto, and Sendai.

The last truck kept a straight course for Saitama, with Lelouch's SUV in its wake.

* * *

 _[21:24 Britannian Military Time]_

 _[Two Hours, Thirty-Six Minutes to D-Day]_

* * *

By the time the truck arrived at the Purist-manned entrance to the ghetto, it was no longer Purist-manned. A half-dozen corpses with white armbands littered the ground—victims of the Shadows. The gate was open and the Purists would have much larger problems on their hands before the morning shift of guards found their comrades.

Rolling through the gates unchallenged, the two vehicles proceeded through the cramped streets until they reached the office building near the Purist base, where Ohgi and the other three members of the cell were waiting.

"Where's Kallen?" the teacher demanded immediately once the group dismounted, only to back off slightly as an angry and huge Jeremiah reared his ugly head. It was hard not to be intimidated by a seven foot tall masked giant whose preferred combat loadout these days was to dual wield a tungsten claymore and a fully-sized assault rifle.

The uniformed redhead coughed awkwardly, drawing Ohgi's attention. His eyes narrowed in confusion before he read the Kanji on her mask and they opened again in surprise.

"Kallen?" he hesitantly queried. Lelouch decided to intervene before anything could be asked that might make Kallen question her burgeoning allegiance.

"Have you done as I instructed?" he asked the cell leader. Ohgi looked at Kallen for a second more, before snapping back into attention.

"Err, yes, Zero. I've disseminated the information. Once midnight comes around, anyone who values their lives will run for the subway tunnels."

"Good," he remarked. "Now start unloading the truck. We've got roughly two hours to turn this ghetto into a death trap."

"Wait a minute!" yelled Tamaki several moments later as he reached the crates of armaments. "Guns? Body armor? I thought you were giving us Knightmares man! We've been busting our asses all month in those simulators so that we could bash some Purist heads!"

Zero managed to convey a look that somehow brought Tamaki's I.Q into question without a word. "I have Knightmares, yes, and a good supplier on the island. But the point is for the Britannians to not know that. With the JLF fielding Knightmares, the Britannians will buy that I managed to get my hands on a handful through underground channels, but enough to fully arm cells in six different ghettos? That will cause problems in the long run. So instead... we're going to be stealing the Purists' Knightmares."

* * *

[2148 Britannian Military Time]

[Two Hours, Twelve Minutes to D-Day]

* * *

At the heart of the Purist's plans to keep the ghettos subdued were the enormous military bases that bordered each of the six. Any form of uprising, greater or minor, could be met with an immediate and rapid deployment of Knightmares. Hundreds of soldiers and dozens of knights manned each one. Between the garrison and the enormous walls surrounding each base, they were considered an insurmountable tool of pacification.

Until tonight.

Almost simultaneously at six different bases, a series of three grappling hooks attached themselves to each wall. Black-clad and white-masked figures infiltrated each instillation and slipped past the occasional sentries with ease.

With Meld-enhanced grace, each squad of Shadows made for their respective objectives.

Lights were still on inside the barracks as the off-duty Purists made merry from the suffering of the Japanese. There was no real reason for any of them to be on alert. They'd kept the Elevens in a state of terrified submission for the past six years. Why should this night be any different? In the Saitama base, two reminisced about that redheaded punk they'd beaten down a month ago.

Moving like their namesake, the Shadows infiltrated the security towers. The handfuls of officers were quickly and silently dispatched after the codes for the Knightmares were extracted from them. Amazing the things you can learn from a man once you've fed him his left testicle.

Utilizing the towers' computers, emergency signals were sent to each of the bases' Knightmares—overriding and changing the activation codes.

With that completed and the new codes recorded, the computers were scrambled with electromagnets to keep the process from being undone.

From there, they advanced through the darkness and scaled the watchtowers overlooking the ghetto's border wall. Each of the sentries met their fate at the hands of a garrote wire.

Their mission complete, the Shadows exfiltrated and regrouped for their next objective.

* * *

[2345 Britannian Military Time]

[Fifteen Minutes to D-Day]

* * *

Kallen sat in the cockpit of her Sutherland, preparing herself for the impending attack. In her hands was a crumpled photo taken when their family had visited Mt. Fuji. Her smiling father was kissing her mother, and Naoto was carrying her on his shoulders as she beamed at the camera.

A single tear fell on the surface of the picture.

She laid a soft kiss of the photo and muttered a Japanese prayer for the dead. Her sentimentality satisfied, she locked it away and buried it deep inside of her. Then she let the hatred start building, or rather she let it out of its mental cage. After carefully putting the photo away, she pulled down the hood of her Fulcrum uniform. She put her mask back on and, once it was secured, reached for the port in the back of her skull. With a soft click the cable connected to the plug in the headrest.

The same, almost spiritual feeling nearly overwhelmed her before she remembered to let go and drifted into the frame.

Her head rose and the Factsphere opened. She saw Zero and his bodyguards rigging a massive quantity of plastic explosives to the truck the supplies had been brought in.

After a week of practice moving about while 'jumped in', she was able to stand and move over to the truck with practiced ease. Zero noticed her approach and tapped the side of his mask, activating a radio of some sort.

" _Six minutes to D-Day Kallen,_ " he said in a voice that seemed to arrive in her brain without the intervention of her ears. " _Ohgi and the others are doing some last second checks to the chaos mines. Do me a favor and scan the watchtowers overlooking the wall adjacent to the Purist base. I want to make sure the Shadows were successful_."

She turned her metallic head towards the wall, and with a thought her vision zoomed in on the towers. They were empty.

"They seem empty," she reported, her voice cold with hatred.

" _Good,_ " came his voice once again. " _Everything is cleared for our mission then. Mr. Orange, if you would get the truck into position and set the timer?_ "

The giant nodded and climbed into the driver's seat of the truck. It slowly rolled out of their current street until it was parked under on of the main support columns of the border wall. Quickly, he exited the cab, went around back, and fiddled with the explosives in the back before jogging over once more.

"The timer is set for midnight, my Lord."

By this point, Ohgi and the others had arrived back. They were intimidatingly dressed in black body armor and equipped with assault rifles in the case of Ohgi and Tamaki, and RPGs for Inoue and Yoshida. Kallen thought it a wise decision that Tamaki hadn't been supplied with any form of explosive.

Once the fighters were gathered and the timer was counting, Zero climbed up on the hood of the armored SUV to give his speech.

"Tonight," he began grandly, "is the night Britannia falls. It may take them years to realize it and for it to reach its full fruition, but when historians look back on the fall of the Britannian Empire it will be recorded in the books that it started on the D-Day rebellion when the Kozuki Resistance Group led an assault, outgunned and outmanned, on the Saitama Purist base and slew them to a man."

Zero's bodyguards arrayed themselves before him, facing the resistance fighters.

"Each of you have lost loved ones to the cruelty of Britannia. Some have lost more than others. This is the night we take our revenge. This is the night our loved ones get their peace."

" _This is the night our revolution begins._ "

* * *

 _[0000 Britannian Military Time]_

 _[D-Day]_

* * *

As he made the final declaration, midnight struck.

A towering inferno erupted from the base of the border wall. Enormous cracks appeared in the wall, before it finally gave in and collapsed into the base. Kallen eyed the barracks on the other side, the home of her enemy. The hatred building in her reached its crescendo.

" _Charge_ ," she heard Zero's voice whisper seductively in her head, although she was no longer sure whether it was real or imagined. _"Kill them all. Kill in the name of all that you have lost. Kill in the name of all that you love. Turn this base into a mausoleum for your family._ "

With a primal roar, she activated the landspinners on her feet and propelled herself into the opening. A klaxon alarm was blaring, but she ignored it as the adrenaline pumped through her metal body.

Her Yggdrasil Core heart thrummed and Sakuradite coursed through her veins as she soared through the air and landed in the center of the main thoroughfare of the base. Confused Purists were wandering out of the barracks, who shrank back in terror at her.

She had a rifle, but she wasn't going to use it yet. Instead, with a flick of her wrists two batons fell into her grasp. Like a golfer using a driver, she backhanded one of the soldiers with the baton and watched him sail thirty meters down the road. God it felt good.

While she tore into the soldiers fleeing the barracks, she dimly perceived Zero and the others charging through the crack and cutting down the soldiers behind her.

It wasn't like she cared though. All that was going through her mind was a desire to kill that amplified with each Purist she slaughtered.

* * *

Lelouch beheld in wonder as he saw Kallen give in to her hatred. It was... beautiful. Pure.

It was what he'd seen the first time he read her file. Her true potential. A monster waiting to be loosed, just like him.

And so he'd cut off the leash she hadn't even known she'd been wearing. He'd set her on the whole of the world in all of her great and terrible glory. It would almost be a shame to leash her once again after this, even if he was just another monster holding it.

With barely any thought, he drew his revolver and carelessly executed a Purist whose legs Kallen had just crushed even as he desperately crawled for safety. His own safety was hardly something he needed to worry about—not with Gottwald standing before him and shrugging off bullets with contemptuous ease.

The Irregulars took up firing positions and started pinning down the soldiers while Kallen slew them. They were under explicit orders to leave as many as possible for Kallen.

He noted that by this point she had abandoned her baton and was ripping apart passing Purists with her bare hands.

Leaving Kallen to her own devices, he led his group past the barracks, stopping only to admire as a group of flaming Purists ran screaming out of one—the result of Sancia's penchant for incendiary grenades.

Not _all_ Britannians were bad, he would admit, but the Purists were animals good only for slaughter.

As the rest of Kozuki's group set into the barracks with their guns and rockets, Lelouch payed them barely any heed. They were just accessories to Kallen. Useless otherwise.

Advancing with Gottwald and the Irregulars at his heels, he eventually found himself at the Knightmare bay. He couldn't conceal his mirth at roughly three dozen knights frantically banging on their frames' consoles as their codes were rejected.

So caught up were they that they didn't even notice his approach until Gottwald opened fire on them with his rifle. They fell like ants before him, and any that tried to run past were cut down like ugly blades of grass by his claymore. When his gun ran dry, he snatched one by the throat and snapped it with a contemptuous ease before dropping the body like a burlap sack.

He called off his Knight before too many fell, however. The point was to clear the bay before the knights thought to do something clever like scuttle the Knightmares. Once they were all fleeing, he let them do so.

They were running straight for Kallen, after all.

Looking for a better view, he scaled the security tower and after stepping over the bodies of its former officers he had a wide, panoramic vantage of the slaughter.

The control rig was working even better than he'd expected. All Knightmares, while graceful, had something inherently mechanical in their movements. A pilot could only focus on so many things at a time after all.

But Kallen's frame moved with pure fluid brutality. It didn't look piloted, it looked _human_. Death in motion.

Beautiful.

* * *

As the Purist base was slaughtered, the same scene played itself out simultaneously across five others. Larger cells in the other ghettos brought down their walls and set into the soldiers with their own men and the single Fulcrum Sutherland provided to each.

The months or years of Fulcrum's orders to wait had finally paid off. In one glorious night they were taking back their homes. Six years of hiding and scraping had lulled their enemy into such a false sense of security that there was practically no resistance to their assault.

Families and loved ones were avenged. Wrongs were righted. _Justice_ was had.

Six years of pent up anger and rage and loathing were unleashed on the unwary Purists as they were dragged from their warm beds and shot in the street like dogs. In one night, the Japanese remembered who they were.

The Knightmares they drove off afterwards were just icing on the cake.

* * *

Once the last of the Purists were killed, the red haze that had overtaken Kallen faded and she found herself staring at the sea of bodies left in her wake. Horrifically mutilated and broken corpses were arrayed around her in various stages of dismemberment.

She looked down at her bloodstained metallic hands, and she felt sick.

Her mind flowed back into her body and she immediately removed the plug. Physical senses came back and the first thing she did was pull the eject lever on the cockpit.

Instead of the needed fresh air, she was instead treated to the stench of blood and death. She ripped her mask off, leaned over the edge of the frame, and retched. With unsteady hands, she attached herself to the cable lift and descended to the earth.

She landed on her knees in a pool of blood. Her breathe started coming in short gasps as she hyperventilated.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she whirled to find herself looking up at Zero. Her eyes looked up at his implacable and emotionless figure, filled with a sobbing, begging plea for absolution.

Instead of giving it, he wordlessly touched her arm in acceptance.

* * *

In the Tokyo Settlement, Countess-General Villetta Nu was awoken from her restful sleep by her emergency phone lighting up and making a racket. With a groan she rose, tied off her sleep gown, and moved over to the table where she had placed the phone on charge.

"This had _better_ be good," she growled sleepily.

" _WHAT?_ "

"No, no. I'll handle it. I want as many Knightmares as we can muster air-deployed right into the Ghetto. Tell them not to leave _anything_ standing. Those animals are going to regret biting the hand that fed them."

"Good. No, I'm coming in. Give me twenty minutes and I can be there to oversee from the command center. Just get those bloody frames in the air before I get there."

* * *

At the St. Nietzsche Britannian Airforce Base, an alarm went off calling for everyone to reach their vehicles. Pilots scrambled out of bed and made for their VTOLs while the knights ran for the Knightmares contained therein.

Such was their haste that nobody noticed the absence of the normal technicians that kept the vehicles flight-ready.

Well, at least until the frames and VTOLs all simultaneously detonated once everyone was loaded. After that, it was quite obvious really.

As the Sakuradite stores in the hangers combusted, showering the surrounding area in burning rain, a pleased Sayoko put away the detonator. She and her little Shadows only had one last stop to make tonight.

The residence of one Diethard Ried.

* * *

Arriving at the war room contained within the Vicereine's palace, General Nu was supremely irritated to find her well-trained and noble command staff running about like headless chickens.

"What's going on here?" she barked, bringing the room into a shocked silence.

"General," stammered a flushed brigadier, "they—the Elevens—they've blown up our airfield! We can't field any air units! All we've got left are some bombers all the way across the island, and they'll take over nine hours to get here!"

"Then send them!" Villetta ordered viciously. "I want those miserable ghettos to be bloody _rubble_ by the time Her Highness wakes up. In the meantime, send a punitive Knightmare force by land into every ghetto. Don't give them time to hide in their holes."

"Yes, General!" snapped the commanders as they finally composed themselves.

Immediately, they started sending orders to the remaining bases, ordering them each to deploy two thirds of their available frames to the nearest ghetto.

In theory this would be enough to subdue the Elevens, no matter how well-armed, but for some reason they all felt that it wouldn't be the end of it.

* * *

Withing an hour of the order, Ser Arthur Gladsbury was piloting his frame along the deserted highway, twenty-nine of his fellow knights in his accompaniment. Their mission was to enter the Saitama ghetto and recapture the Knightmares that had been carted away by the terrorists. Afterwards, they were to slaughter every terrorist they could find.

The parameters for 'terrorist' had been kept deliberately vague in the briefing.

A dust cloud billowing behind them, the punitive force roared through the open gates. The monkeys may have managed to haul the stolen frames into their burrow, but they obviously hadn't worked out how to disable the IFF beacons. They were still broadcasting strong from the other end of the ghetto.

The Elevens weren't out in the streets for easy elimination, but they could come back for them later. What mattered at the moment was retrieving the Knightmares before the bombers arrived.

Keeping a tight formation, they kept a straight path through the main avenue towards their target.

Unfortunately, even the widest avenue was only wide enough to permit two Knightmares to travel abreast. Despite this, they made good time as they neared their objective. Right as Arthur was nearing the end of the tight avenue, several bullets pinged off his frame. He stopped to identify the terrorist, forcing those behind him to halt as well.

That was his fatal mistake.

* * *

 _It was always fun to use an enemy's tactics against them. Especially when they were predictable. Sometimes, it almost felt like cheating._

 _Britannia was a very predictable nation when it came to military tactics. They got away with this because they were so strong that, even if you knew what they were going to do, there wasn't much you could do to stop it._

 _A good example is their adaptation of European tactics. Blitzkrieg, to be precise. In most circumstances, when attacking a position the preferred Britannian strategy was to assemble the bulk of their forces and make a single, pointed attack along the most straightforward avenue with the intent to penetrate lines before a defense could be raised. This went doubly so for an enemy they thought incapable of retribution. Under most circumstances, this was frighteningly effective as the singular force behind the assault would crumble a widespread fortification._

 _Of course, the right strategic mind could take advantage of this predictability._

 _First, the ground could be prepared. A Knightmare's chief strength was its maneuverability. Most weapons large enough to damage one wouldn't be able to move fast enough to hit it. Unless of course their maneuverability was hampered by cramming them into a narrow corridor._

 _Second, special armaments could be gathered. Chaos mines were designed to be Knightmare-killers. They countered the Knightmare's mobility by peppering a large area with shotgun-like storms of APDS rounds. A tight avenue lined with them would become a vicious killbox._

 _Third, ambushers could be hidden. If the enemy thought they knew where your lines were, use that against them. For example, if the Knightmares you just stole possessed tracking beacons, have them removed and place them at the end of your booby-trapped alley while you hide the actual piloted frames on the rooftops._

* * *

The moment Tamaki halted the convoy, Lelouch pressed the trigger for the rigged chaos mines. Instantly, the narrow avenue became a meatgrinder as armor-piercing rounds exploded from the crates, windows, gutters, and stands lining it.

Frames fell left and right as either their pilots or their Yggdrasil cores were shredded by the shrapnel. Lelouch, Gottwald, Kallen, and the Irregulars immediately stood their prone frames and began raining indiscriminate fire into the street below.

Ohgi, Inoue, and Yoshida did their parts by pinning the front and back of the alleyway with Knightmare rounds.

It was over in seconds. Thirty frames piloted by elite Britannian pilots reduced to scrap metal.

" _Whooh! Now that's what I'm fucking talking about!_ " cheered Tamaki over the radio channel, not even caring that he hadn't been allowed a Knightmare.

"Savor it," instructed Zero, "because you're soon going to be intimate with that feeling. Now we have to move fast if we want to get the frames out of here before the military sends reinforcements. Everyone load up."

"Uh, Zero," Ohgi interrupted hesitantly, "I know we just won and all, but if we leave now the military will just massacre the ghetto once we're gone. They'll find everyone in the tunnels."

Lelouch chuckled over the radio, "Don't concern yourself with that. I've ensured that it's handled. Soon, it will be made clear to the Britannian government that the ghettos are off-limits."

As the resistance fighters moved the first group of Knightmares out of the ghetto and into the remote warehouse designated by Zero, Ohgi couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that.

* * *

The very instant that Diethard Ried awoke in his apartment at the Hi-TV tower, he knew that he wasn't alone. It wasn't a concrete feeling, but years of being the voice of Carine's ministry—and thus one of those occasionally in the direct path of her vicious temper—had given him a keen sense of danger. He very slowly reached for the panic button under his nightstand, only to have a knife pressed to his throat halfway.

"None of that now, Mr. Reid," ordered a pleasant yet menacing voice. He shivered, despite himself, as he gazed into the white mask hovering over him.

"What do you want?" he quivered. This was not how he'd wanted to wake up.

"The public broadcast system. You're going to give me access to it," stated the woman.

He couldn't do that. Whatever this assassin wanted to use it for, Carine would kill him if he was complicit. Bluff Ried, bluff!

"I-I can't," he stammered, "it's locked down. I can only access it with a code from-"

A gloved hand clamped over his mouth, cutting him off and muffling his screams as the hovering figure drove the knife a millimeter from his left eye.

" _Don't_ lie to me," she hissed.

He let loose a whimper and nodded, resulting in the release of her hand. Silently, he weighed his options. Either he gave in, did what she wanted, and hoped she didn't kill him; or he didn't and definitely got killed.

With the most charming smile he could muster, he gulped. "Err, right this way then, miss."

The reporter was permitted to stand and was frogmarched in his pajamas through the tower until he reached the main control room. Every security guard he'd passed so far was dead, but fortunately the control room was deserted. It was seven AM and most staff didn't arrive until eight.

Feeling the masked woman's knife hovering in the small of his back like the Sword of Damocles, he entered to code to activate the public PA system. It had been installed years ago as a way for Vicereine Carine to better deliver her occasional speeches and announcements to the general populace.

Once it was activated, he tapped the microphone and passed it to the woman. She denied it, removing instead a small minidisk from her coat and passing it to him. Inserting it into the player, Diethard gulped once more.

Carine was going to kill him.

* * *

From speakers that lined the streets of most sections of Tokyo, the quiet morning was shattered by the blasting of a symphony at maximum volume. It was Tchaikovsky's _1812 Overture_ , to be exact, that dragged the sleepy citizens of the city out into the streets to see what all the fuss was about.

As the bombastic song reached its peak, the entire population of Tokyo was out in the open, covering their ears to block out the noise. Finally, the song faded out and the people looked from one to another, confused.

" _Good morning, Tokyo,_ " introduced a calm, implacable voice. " _I apologize for dragging you out of your beds at such an unreasonable hour, but I'm on a timetable and needs must when the devil drives. To skip right to the introductions, I am Zero, and I am a terrorist._ "

Gasps resounded up and down the streets, before the voice continued.

" _For the past six years, your nobles have grown fat on the suffering of those they ignore, those locked away to starve in the ghettos patrolled by vicious and sadistic soldiers. For six years, the Japanese have scraped by and cowered under your jackboots. They have paid the price for daring to continue living in the country of their birth after your nation marched in and claimed it to fuel their war machine. As of today, the Japanese 'reservations' are no longer under the domain of Britannia. I've liberated them. The Purist bases in place to terrorize and pacify them have all been destroyed, and their Knightmares seized._ "

Sirens could be heard in the distance as police mobilized towards the Hi-TV tower.

" _Of course, even I am unable to protect a single ghetto from the full force of the Britannian occupation forces. You can hurt the Japanese people all day if you like, but know that I can also hurt you. While the commoners are guilt of the sin of deliberate ignorance, they are in many ways just as oppressed as the Japanese. So instead of killing civilians, for every innocent Japanese life lost as a result of Britannian military action, I'll kill a random nobleman and his entire line. Some of you may believe me incapable of this. Please direct your attention to the nearest monitor._

At this point, the blank screens that typically displayed the Vicereine during her announcements lit up to display a whimpering man cowering behind his wife and teenage son. Some recognized him as Viscount Anthony Byrant, a prominent member of the local gambling scene who ran a popular casino.

He and his family had gone missing a week ago in a much publicized mystery, and it seemed they were about to witness his fate.

The sound was muted, but they could tell that the corpulent nobleman was clearly begging. Whatever he had offered, it apparently wasn't enough as the bound family were all shot one at a time by an offscreen revolver, starting with the son.

Shock and horror filled the onlookers as the bodies fell and the video was cut.

" _Most of you will call me a villain for what I have just done. More will call me that as I make good on my promise. Know that by your tacit, unspoken approval you have facilitated acts far more villainous than I could ever devise. As one of your own philosophers once said, 'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' You accept evil not because you say yes, but because you don't say no._

As the feed went dead, an enormous blast rocked the streets as the Hi-TV tower detonated from the inside. Rubble rained down onto the streets below, and many had to scurry out of the way to avoid being crushed.

* * *

"Call off the bombers," ordered Carine an hour later with an irritated sigh as she gazed out into the mob of nobles on the verge of rioting in her throne room. Half the mob wanted her to deal with this 'Zero' figure, the other half wanted her to give in to his threat.

Under any other circumstances she would ignore this Eleven trash and purge the ghettos to set an example, but three things stopped her.

First, Viscount Byron had lived _inside_ the Tokyo settlement, the most secure city in the Area. If this 'Zero' figure had managed to infiltrate it to kill the man and his family while still in their home, it meant that there was a security breach that would have to be addressed before she could call him on his threat.

Second, despite the impression she and other Viceroys liked to give, they _were_ subject to a select opinion. A Viceroy who couldn't control their nobility would quickly find themselves the target of Daddy's ire. Zero, it seemed, had a keen understanding of Britannian society judging by the nature of his threat. Nobles prized their lineage and legacy above all else, which made the extermination of their line a _devastating_ threat.

Third, she wasn't sure if she was _able_ to destroy the ghettos at this point. The six looted bases had contained a large portion of the Area's frames at several dozen apiece. She had maybe two hundred still in reserve and could get more from the Ashfords, but the terrorists now had just over two hundred themselves. They stood a legitimate chance at being able to fight her on even terms in an open engagement if provoked.

"But Vicereine-" started one of her advisers only for her glare to cut him off.

No, she'd play along for now. The Elevens could sit in their squalor and play Big Damn Heroes for a while as she built her reserves back up and sealed the cracks in her security. Then, they'd pay the price for their disobedience when she put this Zero's head on a pike.

* * *

"What in God's name was that, Zero?" demanded Ohgi, having watched the broadcast over a TV mounted in the SUV as they returned from his remote warehouse.

"What was _what_?" the masked figure drawled back, staring disinterestedly at the teacher. Kallen sat next to him, glaring at her brother's friend from across the car.

Ohgi fumed, his hand jerked out towards the screen that had displayed the execution, "That! You murdered an entire family of innocent people! We may be resistance fighters, Zero, but we don't kill civilians!"

"I don't see why you should be questioning him," snapped a uniformed Kallen before Lelouch could reply, "he's done more for Japan today than anyone else has done since the invasion. For Christ's sake, Ohgi, we finally avenged Naoto and you're crying over him making a point in the only way Britannians can understand?"

"Oh don't even get me started on you, Kallen," Ohgi growled. "You want to explain what that shit back at the base was? You were like a fucking animal out there with those soldiers! What do you think Naoto would say if he saw you do that?"

Guilt momentarily flashed across her face, before Lelouch laid a minuscule reinforcing touch on her elbow. She resolved herself.

"I don't know, Ohgi. I can't really ask him anymore. You know why? Because those goddamn savages that you're complaining about me killing caved his _fucking_ face in, Ohgi! Do you remember that? How we had to bury him in the trash heap because there was no room anywhere else? Thanks to Zero here, his spirit can finally rest! He's been avenged, and if you gave any damn about him, you'd appreciate that!"

The schoolteacher looked at his friend's little sister in shock. "I don't like what Zero's done to you, Kallen. The Kallen that I know would never lose control like that, but he absconds with you for a month, and you came back a goddamn monster."

Kallen's face immediately hardened. "I think it's time you got out of the car."

"Kallen, I'm telling yo-"

He was cut off when Kallen drew her sidearm and leveled it at him calmly. He stared at her expressionless mask in shock. "You're not my brother Ohgi, or my father, or my mother. They're all dead because of Britannia. I've gone too far now to stop. If you're not with Zero and me, then you're against us. Now get out of the fucking car."

Gottwald pulled the SUV over, having arrived near Saitama, where sound could already be heard of a tentative celebration at the ousting of the Purists. Ohgi gave Kallen one last look, before stepping out of the car and marching into the ghetto. Kallen whirled around to the backseat where Tamaki, Yashima, and Inoue were staring back in horror.

"Anyone else want out?" she growled, pistol still in hand. The fighters looked back and forth, before one by one piling out of the SUV and following after their erstwhile leader.

"Fucking cowards," she muttered as she holstered the pistol.

The car started moving once more, stuck in silence. Lelouch took the opportunity to send a message to Sayoko.

' _Kozuki Cell gone rogue. Send Mao.'_

"I appreciate you doing that for me, Kallen," said Lelouch eventually as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "You've placed a great deal of trust in me, and I want to repay that by helping you."

He moved across that car so that Kallen was seated across from him. At his indication, she removed her mask.

"I'll not mince words. You got out of control today Kallen—you gave into your hatred and let it dictate your actions. Hatred is a powerful tool, Kallen, but only when wielded _with_ control. Now, being as young and inexperienced as you are, you lack that, so I'll offer you a deal. Give me your trust, faith, and obedience and I shall mold you into the most fearsome enemy Britannia has ever seen. My right hand, my enforcer. Your step will make Britannia quake, and your name will be whispered in the night by frightened knights in their barracks. Your revenge doesn't have to stop here, and this way you won't have to worry about losing yourself to your revenge."

Kallen thought for a moment. Ever since Naoto's death, hatred and grief had been all-consuming. It had felt so _good_ destroying those Purists, but the aftermath had sickened her. She never wanted that to happen again. She did need someone, she realized, someone who understood her anger to tell her what to do with it.

After seeing the blood on the hands of her Knightmare, and Zero's lack of condemnation, she realized that it needed to be _him_. She couldn't be a monster for her own sake. She needed to be someone else's monster.

She couldn't do it on her own. She needed a voice of reason; a lord. A Master.

' _You though, you'll come to know him as..._ "

The first time she used it had been a slip of the tongue. This time though, she meant it.

"Yes," she breathed, "Master Zero."

* * *

Lelouch stared down at the woman before him. As soon as he'd given his acceptance he knew that she was his in every sense of the word. Her horror at her monstrous actions had been turned into a newfound need for his approval might as well have been a Geass. She could no longer trust herself, but she could trust him.

No formal oaths were spoken. They were not needed. From this day forward, Kallen Kozuki belonged to Zero.


	6. Chapter 6: Of Plans and Bargains

**Welcome back readers! Neolyph here! Sorry this chapter took a bit. I was struggling to write a decent scene between Kallen and Lelouch that still felt natural to both characters. Mixing genuine emotion with cold-hearted manipulation is a difficult balance to juggle, so please, if for nothing else, drop me a review about your thoughts on the interactions between Lelouch and Kallen in this chapter. I'm still trying to hammer out the details of their relationship, so if something is dreadfully wrong I can still probably correct it. Feel free to drop reviews for other stuff too though, they are what feed me as a writer.**

 **Enjoy!**

Chapter 6: Of Plans and Bargains

"Something needs to be done about this!" snarled Munakata Tousai, slamming his fist on the short table, causing the delicate china to rattle.

Seated around the table were representatives of the Six Houses that composed Kyoto, the underground coalition of former Japanese plutocrats that pooled their resources to fund and supply resistance groups. Primarily the JLF.

Of course, this was trickier than it sounded. Under Vicereine Carine's Purist regime, no 'Eleven' would be permitted to run a corporation of any kind.

Fortunately, when Taizo had 'betrayed' his countrymen, one of the things he'd been able to work into the deal had been that he and the other members of his group would be permitted to choose the new Britannian CEOs of their companies. Japanese pride, he had cited.

This had been grudgingly accepted, and so the Six Houses had gotten their feet in the door. They had sought out useless but charismatic Britannians—second sons of nobles and the like. The selected candidates had been offered puppet positions as CEOs of the seized Japanese corporations, receiving an exorbitant salary in exchange for letting their 'benefactors' continue running the operations.

Incompetent as they were, there was no risk of them attempting to usurp the company, and any that tried met with unfortunate 'accidents'.

Using Britannian greed against them had a certain beauty to it, in Kyoto's opinion.

Taizo 'The Traitor' Kirihara took a sip of his tea before leveling a disapproving stare at the hotblooded industrialist. "Calm yourself, Munakata," he cautioned reproachfully. "A hasty decision here will bring about no good."

The middle-aged man grunted but complied begrudgingly.

It had been four hours since Zero's televised threat to the entire occupation, and so far it seemed to have worked. Even from their reclusive estate the Six Houses could still hear the celebration of their countrymen, growing by every hour that Britannian Knightmares failed to fall from the sky.

But still, Taizo was uneasy.

"I don't trust this Zero," he declared. "We have grown more suspicious by the week that another group has been arming numerous cells under our noses, and then this 'Zero' suddenly appears from nowhere with an entire army at his command. That doesn't seem a coincidence, I should think."

Nods went around the room as they reflected on this. Recruiting cells within the ghettos had been tremendously difficult as of the last two years. Carine's iron rule made it so that only a few dozen Japanese from a ghetto would be willing to resist at a time. The rest usually had too much to lose.

But even those precious few had been drying up. Any time an effective and well-sized group would arise, it would disappear the moment Kyoto set their sights on it.

Any time they could get an agent to question a member of the lost groups, they would simply claim that it had 'dissolved'. It was infuriating. Every once in a while they would be able to talk a group into 'reforming', but they would always refuse to discuss why they had ceased operations in the first place.

Their first lead had come just a month ago, when they managed to get into contact with the leadership of the recently 'dissolved' Blood of the Samurai group in Saitama. It was revealed in confidence that their group had been contacted by an agent of _another_ party, offering them supplies in exchange for lying low until further orders were given.

The leader claimed that he hadn't trusted the agent, suspecting them of being some sort of Britannian spy. So when Kyoto had offered its support in exchange for information on these mystery benefactors, the Blood of the Samurai had gleefully jumped ship.

Still, the information had been vague and unhelpful. The only descriptor they had of the agent was of her outfit, and the supplies had been generic and unstamped medical crates. Useless. The Blood of the Samurai had been instructed to meet at warehouse in three day's time, but it seemed that their betrayal had been discovered as their benefactors were a no-show when the leaders went there with Kyoto agents tailing them.

Then there was, of course, also the fact to be considered that a week after their recruitment and right as they were about to be sent on a sabotage run, that the Blood of the Samurai's leader and his support staff died when a 'gas leak' detonated their headquarters.

"It's not been confirmed by our agents yet," observed Kaguya Sumeragi, "but I think it's rather clear where all of those small 'dissolved' cells have gone."

Yoshino Hiroyoshi cleared his throat, "I think the question is not whether Zero is responsible for the missing cells, but whether his intentions are for the benefit of Japan..."

"He's dishonorable," accused Kubouin Hidenobu with clear condemnation in his gruff voice. "He not only killed civilians, but women and children. Britannian nobility, but civilians all the same. That is not the Japanese way."

Shaking her head, Kaguya motioned out the window towards the homemade fireworks being shot off by the elated denizens of the liberated ghetto.

"I don't believe _they_ would agree with you, Hidenobu. Whether it is the Japanese way or not, Zero's 'dishonorable' actions have won him the support of the common people. Six years ago it may not have been their way either, but now they hunger for any Britannian blood they can get. Zero provided that, and now he's their hero."

Kubouin growled. "You think he's a _hero_?" he demanded.

"I never said that," evaded Kaguya with narrowed and indignant eyes. "Yet it is undeniable that he _did_ perform a great deed for Japan today. He simultaneously liberated all six ghettos and intimidated the Britannians into leaving them alone. Something tells me that he isn't stopping here."

Taizo raised an eyebrow at his protege. "You think he means to continue his rebellion?"

"He took the Knightmares," Kaguya pointed out. "The Britannians would have been cowed without them, yet he took them anyway. He's planning to use them for something."

Disconcerted murmurs echoed through the Kyoto meeting room at the thought. Their intelligence on the Purist bases indicated that each had about three dozen Knightmares each. Provided that they were all stolen, which reports seemed to indicate, that placed over two-hundred Knightmares in Zero's hands. It was a frightening idea.

"But what?" questioned Osakabe Tatsunori. "Even with such an arsenal, he couldn't take on the Settlement. Not only is it heavily fortified—even more so now that an alert has been triggered—but the Britannians have experienced pilots. It would be a massacre."

Yoshino hummed. "He _could_ send in those saboteurs of his in once again to weaken the defenses. They seemed to work on the airfield, and they managed to assassinate Viscount Byron..."

"No," Kaguya refuted, "not after that broadcast he put on. Whatever route his agents used to infiltrate the Settlement, it won't work again. Security will be locked down and any traffic in and out will be under heavy scrutiny."

Silence reigned as Taizo took a sip of his tea, a pensive expression on his face.

"Kaguya," he instructed finally, "you're in charge of our intelligence network. Have them start working on deducing what targets outside the Settlement would be enticing to someone like Zero. Also, I want to know who he is and how his organization has slipped under our noses. Compile a report and present it to us at our next meeting."

"Of course, Lord Kirihara," said Kaguya respectfully, burying her irritation.

"Also," Taizo continued with a hint of a smirk, "make sure to brief your dear fiance on this Zero situation. We may have need of the JLF should we decide to deal with him."

* * *

With the Kyoto meeting at her residence concluded, Kaguya held herself together just long enough to ensure that she was alone before she finally lost her temper.

" _Fools!_ " she snarled viciously, snatching the cup Kirihara had been drinking from and beaming it at the wall. It shattered violently with the tinkling of porcelain. She was sick of being treated like a child. Kubouin questioning her, Taizo ordering her on what to do with _her_ agents—the agents that were the only reason the Six Houses could even operate.

Contrary to what those dinosaurs may believe, she _did_ remember Japan. And for the first time in six years, when she looked out the window she _saw_ it.

And they refused to even consider the idea of supporting the man who had brought it back. No, the only talk had been of how to 'deal with' Zero. The arrogant fossils were so caught up in their own egos that they couldn't fathom the idea of anyone but them being responsible for Japan's liberation.

If she didn't need their resources, she'd have broken ties with the whole pack of them years ago. Even Kirihara, the man who had mentored her, had fallen into the trap of his own hubris. Japan needed new leadership. It needed a man who wouldn't flinch at what needed to be done...

 _Zero_.

The name sent a shiver down her spine. Now there was a man who knew what he was doing.

After six years of watching her fiance and the JLF bide their time and make ineffectual attacks against the occupation, how could she not be drawn in by the mysterious terrorist that had not only orchestrated the liberation of the ghettos, but had also done it under the very noses of her intelligence network? All of her agents were handpicked, and her informants were everywhere. That Zero had managed to evade them with ease spoke to him having his own spy nexus in place.

She'd have to put out some discrete feelers and see if she could get in touch with him. Kyoto was a sinking ship, and she'd be damned if she went down with it.

The question was what to offer him as proof of her sincerity? As one of Kyoto's houses she had access to a treasure trove of assets and information, but what specifically should she put forth as an overture?

Too small and either she would be doubted or he would be insulted. Too large and she risked tipping her hand to the rest of the Houses.

Agonizing, she flopped down on the futon lining one wall of the meeting chamber. She'd have to put a call in to 'darling' Suzaku soon to brief him on Kyoto's thoughts regarding Zero.

Sukazu... her fiance.

Honestly, to this day she hated her parents for arranging her marriage to the Kururugi heir, and Taizo for pressuring her into keeping the contract even after the invasion so that there would be a familial link between Kyoto and the JLF. She couldn't back out now without losing all of her credibility for 'putting herself above Japan'.

Her only saving grace was that she'd managed to negotiate a clause into the contract that she would not be married until she was eighteen, which gave her another year to find an out.

Under normal circumstances she would be fine with marrying herself off for the sake of her country, but two reasons made her detest this particular engagement. First, both Suzaku and his surrogate father Tohdoh were dutifully loyal to Japan. They would never take sides against Kyoto, which made the marriage pointless. Second, Suzaku Kururugi was quite possibly the most... tedious individual she had ever encountered.

That wasn't to say the Suzaku was dumb or some kind of meathead—far from it—but talking to him was like blearily reading a textbook on the Bushido code while doped up on general anesthetic. He considered himself an 'honorable Japanese warrior' in all things, and that extended to relationships, it seemed.

Pride and hints of arrogance pervaded the majority of his speech and actions, which she found insufferable. For all his posturing, he was little above a terrorist squatting in the hills, but you'd think he was Oda Nobunaga himself to hear him talk. She hated idealists like him.

It would be even worse once he got his hands on the Guren MK-II.

...

A mischievous grin stretched across her delicate features.

* * *

Smoke was still visible from the bombed Hi-TV tower as Lelouch's SUV rolled into the Settlement past the eyes of a contingent of Geassed soldiers. He made a note to revisit the checkpoints to ensure that they were still under his control. With his little announcement, they would probably beef up security at the entrances to Tokyo.

Fortunately, it seemed that the threat had worked. He'd had contingencies if it hadn't of course, but they would have required the activation of certain assets that he wanted to keep under wraps until they were needed. As the ghetto nearest to Tokyo, he could see faint fireworks being shot off in Shinjuku. Tomorrow he would have to introduce himself to his soldiers, but for tonight they needed to celebrate and spread word of their mysterious benefactor Zero.

Even Ohgi and his little band of misfits, once Mao was done with them.

He smiled contentedly under his mask, eyeing his newest pet. Kallen was sitting passively across from him, flanked by Dalque and Lucretia. Her submissive posture testified to her broken spirit, reformed for his purpose.

In all honesty, he was impressed with himself. Within the span of a month, he'd taken the object of his desire and shaped her from a total stranger into a personal attack dog willing to turn on her former friends for his sake. So long as he didn't fumble his personal unveiling, nothing would shake her.

Her head was bowed, but he could see her eyes trying to peer through the blacked out glass of the SUV, attempting to decipher their location and destination.

With a gloved hand, he gently reached out and lifted her chin so that he was peering into her marvelous cerulean eyes. "Worry not Kallen," he assured softly, "the shroud will be lifted soon. You've placed your faith in me, so I think it only fair that I place mine in you."

Red colored the resistance fighter's cheeks, even more so when she realized it.

She swallowed and nodded, inadvertently leaning deeper into his touch. Lelouch held it just long enough to be significant, then withdrew his hand and leaned back into his seat. He wished he could smoke, but that would require him to take his mask off. Instead, he sighed and checked his encrypted phone for updates on the ongoing operations. So far, all was according to plan, but he knew that wouldn't last. Something was going to go awry. It was just a matter of what and when.

* * *

By the time Lelouch's vehicle slowly rolled to a stop in the Fulcrum Bunkers' vehicle bay, operations were in full swing as Japanese technicians swarmed about in their efforts to get the stolen Purist Knightmares repainted, scrubbed of IFF beacons, and reprogrammed to accept input from some of Reuben's more... niche inventions; the things his Ashford R&D team developed that he deemed too 'impractical' or 'wasteful' for military production.

That is to say, the good stuff that he wasn't willing to let the Britannians get their hands on. It was the reason that Schneizel had finally gotten frustrated with Reuben's 'delays' in developing a seventh generation frame and had been forced to outsource.

Once the SUV was fully halted, Jeremiah quickly exited the driver's seat and navigated around to open the door on Lelouch's side. With an ingrained aristocratic ease, Lelouch stepped out of the vehicle and extended his hand to assist Kallen. She took his hand demurely, red dusting her cheeks once more as he held her with all the poise of a gentleman.

Her attention was so focused on Lelouch that she failed to notice Sancia exiting the SUV behind her, a half smirk on her masked face at the sight of another unwitting woman falling under her master's sway. He did it so easily that sometimes she wondered if he was even aware of it.

Of course, she thought, if he _was_ doing it intentionally, she and her sisters would likely have fallen for him already. Then again perhaps he simply didn't think it another necessary link in the chain binding them to him. After all, ever since they'd killed their first Britannians at his command, the Irregulars had been his.

It scared her sometimes how well Master Lelouch could bind someone to his will.

Still, she thought, it wasn't like it was a terribly _unfortunate_ fate. Service to Master Lelouch had a great many perks: he was competent, he was ruthless, and he was dedicated; but more than that, he genuinely _cared_ , in his own way, about each and every person under his personal command. Minor assets like the Kozuki Group may have been expendable, but they weren't really direct members of Fulcrum. They were just a means to an end.

She knew for a fact that he kept a well-hidden plaque in the closet of his office, containing both the real and code-names of every Fulcrum operative that had died in its service ever since its founding. ' _They Served in Silence_ ," was inscribed on it.

More than for her sisters, or her hatred for Britannia, _that_ was why she followed Master Lelouch. That was why she would kill and die in his name, and by his orders. Because despite all he looked and acted the part of the dragon, deep down he was still a knight, on his own crusade.

Not a white knight, Lord no, but a knight nonetheless.

* * *

While the Irregulars split off for their barracks and Jeremiah took his Lord's unspoken cue and departed for the mess hall, Lelouch led Kallen through the twisting hallways of the base. Despite having spent weeks here after her control rig implant, Kallen was still entirely unfamiliar with the internal layout, and thus had no idea where she was being led.

After what felt like hours, passing only a scant few masked and hooded figures that all either bowed to or saluted Zero, they arrived at a thick wooden door. Producing a key from somewhere within his coat, Lelouch stuck it in the lock and twisted it.

The door opened on silent hinges, revealing a tasteful but minimalist office. A finely-crafted oak desk housed two flat monitors, while the walls were adorned with dozens of maps, charts, photographs, and diagrams that formed an incomprehensible mess of strategic and tactical insight—discernible only to the mind that arranged it. A couch up against one wall bore the marks of having been slept on frequently.

Kallen watched as Zero seated himself behind the desk, and with the press of a button caused the two monitors to descend into the desk, allowing him to peer at Kallen over his workstation.

"Please," he said, indicating towards the two chairs placed before his desk, "have a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

Nervously, Kallen complied with the instruction and seated herself on the right side of the desk. Zero studied her anxious form for a long moment, his drumming fingers and the monotonous ticking of the office's clock being the only indication of passing time.

"Well," he declared eventually, "I've promised you an explanation. I've said I'll tell you who we are, and what we do. And who I am."

Zero drummed his fingers once more, his difficulty in choosing his words plain in his body language. Kallen was almost stunned. Never had she ever seen him hesitate.

"Let me ask you something Kallen," he finally queried. "How's your Greek philosophy?"

Blinking at the _non_ _sequitur_ , Kallen stammered for a moment. "Not... particularly good, Master Zero?" she answered cautiously. "I was still a little girl when my parents were murdered, and while Naoto and the others did their best to ensure that I was still educated, there are some significant gaps in my schooling..."

Zero hummed for a moment, nodding his head. "So you're unfamiliar with the analogy of Plato's Cave, I take it?"

At Kallen's hesitant nod, Zero continued to explain, "Ancient Greek philosopher Plato wrote a story in his work _Republic._ The story is a metaphor about the nature of enlightenment."

"The premise," Zero expounded, and Kallen couldn't help but be drawn in by his narration, "was a cave where a group of slaves had been imprisoned from birth. These prisoners were chained so that their legs and necks were fixed, forcing them to gaze at the wall in front of them and not look around at the cave, each other, or themselves. Behind the prisoners was a fire, and between the fire and the prisoners was a raised walkway with a low wall, behind which people walked carrying objects or puppets. The people walked behind the wall so their bodies did not cast shadows for the prisoners to see, but the objects they carried did. The prisoners couldn't see any of what was happening behind them, they were only able to see the shadows cast upon the cave wall in front of them. The sounds of the people talking echoed off the walls, and the prisoners believed that these sounds came from the shadows."

Kallen looked uncomfortable at the implied barbarism inherent to the allegory, sympathizing the slaves' condition with that of her people.

"Over time, the shadows became reality to the prisoners because they have never seen anything else; they did not realize that what they saw were shadows of objects in front of a fire, much less that these objects were inspired by real things outside the cave."

Zero looked at Kallen across the desk for another long moment before continuing, "One day, one of the slaves broke free. He immediately turned around and saw the fire, but the light hurt his eyes and obscured the objects casting the shadows. He fled from the fire, and in his blind desperation he accidentally made his way to the surface where he stepped out into the brilliance of the morning sun."

An enraptured Kallen visualized that slave, pale and naked, basking in the warmth and light of the sun for the first time in his life.

"When he saw the sun, it all became clear to him—he realized that he and his fellows were living a false reality, a lie. He rushed back down into the cave and set about freeing the other slaves from their bondage so that they could see the light as he had."

The black mask of Zero locked on to Kallen once more, and she could hear the grim half-smile in his voice.

"Can you guess what they did Kallen?"

She shook her head, and she could feel his same smile.

"They beat him to death, and put their chains back on."

As Kallen reeled in shock at the unexpected ending, Zero reached up and with a fluid motion removed his mask, and lowered his hood.

A silent beat passed as Kallen met the stoic gaze of Lelouch vi Britannia. The only movement was when Lelouch pulled the revolver from his shoulder holster and slid it across the table so that it rested in front of Kallen. She stared at it, unable to process _anything_.

"So tell me Kallen," continued Lelouch after several infinitely-long moments, finally breaking her out of her shock, "what will you do? Will you step into the light with me? Or are you going to put your chains back on like Ohgi?"

She looked down, realizing that somehow the revolver had transported itself into her hand, and was being aimed by a shaky hand at the figure across from her.

"Y-You're..." she stuttered, betrayal coursing through her, "Britannian."

He was just as Britannian as those men she had murdered. As those men that had killed her parents. Her brother.

Her finger moved towards the trigger, but hesitated for just long enough.

"I'm no more Britannian than you are Kallen," corrected Lelouch with narrowed purple eyes. "Do you think that you're the only Britannian out there that's been a victim of the cruel regime of Charles zi Britannia? That you're the only one out there who would love nothing more than to see his head on a pike? I thought you different, but it seems you're just as naive as the rest of your group."

"You lied to us!" screamed Kallen, slamming her free hand on the desk as she straightened her aim. "Lied to _me_!"

"I never lied!" Lelouch countered, rising to meet her eyes. "I promised you victory, I promised you revenge, and I promised you control, but I _never_ said that I was Japanese. I gave you that control rig in your head because I had _faith_ in you Kallen—faith that one day you would be able see past yourself and look at the big picture!"

"You gave me this control rig to make me your tool!" accused Kallen, waving the revolver wildly.

"So what if I did? Just two hours ago you placed your absolute faith in me, to guide you through your vengeance and see you through to the end. What happened to that faith? You were _willing_ to be my tool, so long as you got your revenge. Does my nationality truly change that?"

Kallen wavered for the briefest moment, but Lelouch pounced on the opening.

"I'm not the enemy here, Kallen. Neither are any members of Fulcrum. We're not sneering Britannian aristocrats, or Purist enforcers. We're men and women, Britannian and Japanese, that seek to end Britannia and with it the cycle of oppression. I picked you, Kallen, because I thought that _you,_ more than anyone else in your cell, would be able to sympathize with our goals and aims."

The gun fell limp by Kallen's side, although she still kept a death grip on it.

"Why?" she demanded through gritted teeth, her head snapping up to meet his eyes. "Who are you? What did Britannia do to you that you founded a group to bring it down?"

In response, Lelouch opened the drawer of his desk and removed a small, framed photograph. It depicted a young, black-haired youth carrying an even younger girl with dusty blonde hair on his back, while a regal woman with the same hair as the boy watched on fondly.

"My name is Lelouch vi Britannia," he introduced, "and the Emperor, Charles zi Britannia, murdered my mother, blinded and crippled my younger sister, and abandoned us to the wolves of Imperial politics."

Kallen's gun hand twitched at the name, but stilled at the rest. "Your father killed you mother?" she asked quietly.

"That man is _not_ my father!" snarled Lelouch instantly, forgetting himself momentarily and causing Kallen to shrink back at the pure venom is his tone.

Settling his breathing and chastising himself for letting his control slip, Lelouch's icy stare met Kallen's fire once more. "My sister, Nunnally, means _everything_ to me. Because of the Emperor, she is a blind cripple, unable to sustain herself without the constant aid of caretakers. To this day, she still had nightmares about the attack. The first time she cried because of what Charles zi Britannia did to her, I swore that I would never acknowledge that man as my father again."

Despite herself, Kallen couldn't help but acknowledge his hatred. The gun started to feel heavy in her hand.

"That's part of what I saw in you, Kallen," Lelouch said softly. As she looked at him, Kallen felt something shift within her. "Even though there were other larger or more competent cells, I recruited _yours_. Because of _you_. I saw in you the same drive that fuels _me_. A kindred spirit."

Lelouch's eyes stared down sorrowfully at the desk. "Maybe," he confessed, "deep down, I recruited you just because I wanted someone that shared my pain."

With a clatter, the revolver fell to the office floor. Lelouch looked back up just in time to see a red blur before a pair of lips crashed into his own.

* * *

Kallen had no idea what she was doing.

Well, to be precise, she was _intimately_ aware of what she was doing, she just couldn't fathom _why_. Just moments ago she had been prepared to put a bullet between the eyes of the figure across from her. Now, she was on the verge of jumping his bones.

Maybe it was because she had finally figured it out. Ever since she'd met him, she'd felt an undeniable _allure_ towards Zero. Something intangible pulled her towards the mysterious figure, infatuating her.

Now, she realized, it was because they truly _were_ kindred spirits. For the first time since she'd seen her parents die on live television, she had someone who completely and utterly sympathized with her. Someone who felt her pain Someone who _understood_.

Even in the ghetto, among her own people, she had been ostracized for her Britannian features. Had Ohgi not vouched for her, she would likely have been lynched herself.

Needless to say, it made socializing hard. Dating even harder. Naoto had been supportive as he could, however the two had intrinsically different feelings regarding their misfortunes. But now, held in the arms of someone with the same experiences, the same hatred, the same desires as her, she couldn't think of anything that felt more right.

As they broke for air, she barely paused to inhale before locking lips again.

* * *

While he was busy spinning Kallen around so that he could unhook her bra, Lelouch skirted the dropper revolver sitting on the carpet near the desk, making a note to be cautious around it.

After all, even a gun loaded with blanks could still cause damage if one wasn't careful.

* * *

From his improvised apartment in the abandoned Saitama Highschool, Ohgi was occupied drowning himself with alcohol. It was in a whiskey bottle, but it was nothing so high-quality. Real, proper booze was a precious commodity in the ghetto, which meant that most people like Ohgi had to make do with homebrewed rotgut.

Of course, had he and the rest of his cell gone out and joined the celebration they would likely be showered with whatever they wanted, but at the moment none of them could bring themselves to go out and celebrate their victory.

" _Kallen_ ," muttered Ohgi as he took another swig.

He'd failed her. He'd failed Naoto. He'd broken his promise to the both of them.

The look in her eyes as she leveled her pistol at him still haunted him every time he closed his eyes. That _bastard_ Zero did something to her. He'd known her ever since she was a little girl. Just what had Zero done that she was willing to draw a gun on him?

Next to him, Tamaki finished his own bottle and slammed it down on the table.

"I'm gonna go join the party," he announced, although his usual vibrance was noticeably subdued. "Who knows?" he added weakly, "I might even get lucky."

Ohgi chuckled weakly, not looking up as Tamaki and the two others stood and made their way for the door. He heard their footsteps cross the apartment towards the front door, and the click of the lock coming undone.

"Who the fuck are you?" he heard the redhead demand, before another sound followed of a meaty impact and the clomping of boots. He spun around, reaching for his sidearm, before realizing that he'd left it beside his bed.

A metal baton impacted his forehead, dazing him and sending him sprawling out of his chair.

As he lay groaning and clutching his bruised skull, a pair of gruff, gloved hands wrenched him to his knees and forced him to kneel. His vision cleared, and he found himself staring into the white mask of a large, stout figure in the same uniform as Zero's people.

He gazed around the room, and found Tamaki, Inoue, and Yashima in identical circumstances. Yashima's nose was bleeding slightly and Tamaki kept thrashing around until one of the men finally handcuffed him. Cuffs followed shortly on the rest of the cell.

"Targets secure, Ms. Grey," one of the thugs reported over an earpiece.

"Wonderful," came a soft voice from the doorway. "Thank you boys very much. It is so difficult to do this while they're squirming."

A figure strode in, and Ohgi's blood ran cold at the sight of her. She was short, with a well-developed figure and a white mask bearing a depiction of a pink heart. With a predatory air, she walked right past Tamaki and the others, and instead stopped right in front of Ohgi.

The woman scoffed, her gloved hand snatching Ohgi's chin painfully and forcing him to meet her masked gaze. The soldier holding him gave Ohgi's shoulder a warning squeeze as a reminder to behave himself.

"So _you're_ the one who's given Big Brother such trouble?" she queried softly. "The one who rejected his generous offer in spite of all he's done for you?"

Right as Ohgi opened his mouth to speak, the woman flicked her wrist and the soldier instinctively removed his hands from his captive. Ohgi was about to take advantage of the opening when he saw what the masked woman had produced.

A taser.

He moaned in agony as the crackling prongs impacted his chest, sending fifty-thousand bolts coursing through his body. Time seemed to freeze, so he wasn't sure how long she kept the electrocution going, but judging by the uncomfortable looks from his comrades when she finally let up, it had been a while.

Even the soldiers seemed wary of the masked woman. Despite their masks, their fear of their commander was palpable.

"YOU FUCKING INSECTS!" the woman shrieked in rage, applying the taser once more and sending Ohgi into more spasms. "BIG BROTHER OFFERS YOU EVERYTHING! AND YOU TURN AGAINST HIM? YOU BETRAY HIM? SUFFER LIKE THE VERMIN YOU ARE!"

The taser halted momentarily and Ohgi rolled over with a groan before the woman's heavy boot impacted with his jaw and snapped his head to the side violently.

Finally, one of the soldiers intervened. "Ma'am," reminded the soldier that had been holding Ohgi, "remember that Master Lelouch wanted them left with as few marks as possible. Bumps and bruises are fine, but you're about to break some bones there."

Ohgi looked up and saw that the woman's boot was poised to come down on his restrained elbow, which would most definitely snap it.

With a growl, the woman deliberately lowered her foot back down, and Ohgi could _feel_ the glare being leveled at the soldier. Despite that, she seemed to redirect the anger back at him instead.

Once more, the taser was brought out and from the other side of the room, even Tamaki was unable to speak at the sight of his commander being brutalized by this infuriated, scorned psychopath of a woman.

After several minutes of ranting and interspersed electrocutions, the woman finally seemed to compose herself.

"Line them up," she ordered the soldiers. "Make sure I can see their eyes."

To their horror, the four remaining members of the Kozuki cell were lined up kneeling against a wall. Despite their struggling, the soldiers managed to keep their heads still and forced their eyes open.

Moving so that she was standing before her kneeling captives, the woman removed her mask to reveal a sneering, otherwise angelic face with long purple hair, and... glowing purple eyes.

* * *

Ohgi blinked, having forgotten what he'd been doing.

Tamaki finished his bottle and slammed it down on the table with a cheer.

"I'm gonna go join the party!" he announced enthusiastically. "Who knows?" he added confidently, "I might even get _lucky_. Conquering heroes and all that! Ladies love that kind of thing. C'mon Ohgi, Yashima, we're gonna be _rolling_ in women. Maybe even Inoue'll find someone, thought I doubt it."

Inoue rolled her eyes and Ohgi chuckled at his friend's antics, taking a swig from his own bottle of rotgut to alleviate his sudden headache. "I'll be along in just a minute, Tamaki. Master Zero _did_ want us to use he celebration as a recruitment opportunity after all. And we _do_ owe him dearly."

Pouring shots for everyone from the last of his bottle, Ohgi passed out the glasses and raised his own in a toast. Tamaki, Inoue, and Yashima joined him with their own.

"As of this moment, the Kaname Resistance Cell is now recruiting! To Master Zero!"

* * *

"Thank you for seeing me so quickly Reuben," said Vicereine Carine ne Britannia congenially, sipping the tea provided by the Duke's secretary.

"Not a problem at all, Your Highness. Serving Britannia is my highest calling, after all," replied the aging industrialist politely.

A suitably appropriate amount of time was spent partaking of the tea in Ashford's spacious penthouse office. Normally Carine wouldn't have spent so much time being polite to someone beneath her status, but first despite technically being lower rank than her by nobility, Reuben's military-industrial empire marked him as her equal, if not superior in the eyes of the Emperor; and second, she was about to ask him to technically commit an act of sedition.

"So," began Reuben as he placed his tea cup to the side, "what can Ashford do for you today, Your Highness? Something to do with that dreadful Zero villain, I imagine? Should be lined up and shot, that lot."

"Precisely. And insightful as always, Reuben. You're familiar with the news reports that he managed to hijack a few dozen Knightmares from the bases constructed to protect the resettlement camps?"

At Reuben's nod, Carine continued, "Well... it may have been... more than a few dozen."

"I see," muttered the duke, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Just how many did those animals manage to cart off then?"

"Provided that none were rendered inoperable, which we can only speculate on, they managed to steal... about two-hundred and sixteen."

Having known the figure in advance, Reuben was able to time his sip of tea so that he choked and spluttered at the number.

"Two-hundred and sixteen?" he parroted frantically. At her embarrassed nod, he sighed. "Well they shouldn't be able to use them without the access codes. You locked them down, yes?"

"The base computers were wiped so we're unable to completely confirm, but based on fact that the bodies found there showed signs of torture, it seems that this 'Zero' had agents infiltrate the base in advance, ambush the officers in the control tower, extract the codes from them, and reset the Knightmares to reject input from our systems."

Reuben's brow furrowed at the complication, and he drummed his fingers on the table for a moment. "How about munitions and energy fillers? Frames are useless if they're without fuel and ammo. Did they manage to steal any of those?"

Carine's eyes lit up. "I don't think so!" she realized excitedly. "Although the base frames were kept fully charged and armed, that means they've probably only got one good engagement in them, right?"

Despite the young Vicereine's exuberance, Reuben stamped it out, silently relishing in the girl's disappointment, "Not necessarily, Your Highness. After all, the JLF has Knightmares as well, yes? Yet they're still well-supplied. I think that if you want to take out this 'Zero', you'll first have to locate and stamp out the JLF to find out how they're maintaining their Knightmare forces, and then use that information to cut off Zero."

"That's brilliant Reuben!" cried the princess, before her gaze turned slightly sheepish once more. "Only, there's a slight problem with that..."

Duke Ashford raised an eyebrow. Carine's face fell, trying her best for a 'helpless princess' look. "Well," she began, "I don't really _have_ the Knightmares to both take on the JLF _and_ defend the Settlement. Not anymore, that is—so I just thought..."

"I see," murmured Reuben, having predicted this and having his excuse prepared in advance. "Unfortunately Vicereine, while I _do_ have a few hundred frames currently stored, they're all stamped and ready for shipping to the European front. Despite your current security problems, I can't redirect any to your own forces. They need the frames in Europe more than you do here."

Carine wanted so badly to let her temper fly and just _order_ this impetuous noble living on _her_ lands to turn over his Knightmares, but she knew that she would end up in hot water for that. Forcefully seizing those frames would put her in direct contrast to orders from her older brother Schneizel, who was one of the few royals with the authority to bring legal action against another royal.

Persuasion and guile would have to suffice instead.

"Please?" she begged, fluttering her eyelashes. "Just a few? I wouldn't even need them permanently, just a couple of weeks as I stamp out the JLF. After that, they can go right to Europe. I'll even pay for them to cover the inconvenience."

Reuben seemed to contemplate for several moments, before shaking his head silently. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Highness. Those frames are already spoken for. Lending them to you, even temporarily, could result in me being stripped of my title and lands."

The Vicereine's mask nearly cracked as her temper flared, before Reuben raised an appeasing hand. "I can't give you the Europe-bound frames, _but,_ I do have about four dozen in reserve working security for the compound. If you'll lend me some tanks or APCs to fill the gaps, I can give you the frames until this crisis is over, _and_ I'll put an order in for another batch of Knightmares immediately. Provided that this 'Zero' is even still a problem by then, you'll be able to outnumber him within about a month and a half."

At the Duke's words, Carine's temper finally calmed. She felt a little bad for getting mad at the nobleman. He was genuinely trying his best to help her solve this crisis—it was just that his hands were tied. Reuben was a loyal son of Britannia, and was responsible for the creation of the unstoppable Britannian war machine after all.

"Thank you Reuben," she said sincerely, finishing her cooling tea and rising to signal the end of the meeting.

"Of course, Your Highness. You know that I am one of your loyal subjects," affirmed Ashford as he rose and shook hands with the Vicereine.

As the princess turned to leave, Reuben spoke up one final time. "If I may, Your Highness? Due to Prince Schneizel's orders prohibiting me from aiding you sufficiently in your time of need, I feel it only appropriate to remind you that his little Camelot project _is_ operating in your territory. It would only be fair for them to pay the King's hunting tax, or Queen's, as it were."

Reuben couldn't see Carine's sudden vicious smile, but he didn't need to. It was matched by one of his own, if for different reasons.

Thomas would get a kick out of this.

* * *

Panting and breathing hard, Lelouch and Kallen finally broke apart from their place on the couch in Lelouch's office. Divested of his Zero uniform, Lelouch was flat on his back, reclining on his office couch and holding a naked Kallen in his lap.

That had been... different.

Each of Lelouch's lovers had their own sort of flavor in the bedroom. Milly was exuberant and experimental. Sayoko was all about control and dominance. Mao preferred gentleness and affection. Kallen though...

Kallen was _passion_ given form. Pure fire. It was part of why she was so easy for him to mold, but also why he was attracted to her so.

The same raw emotion that had been channeled in her massacre of the Purists had been put into her sexual performance as well. He was pretty sure he'd have those scratches on his back for a few days at the very least.

"Promise me something... Lelouch," said Kallen suddenly from her place straddling him, her face serious and contemplative.

His hand reached out and delicately caressed the redhead's cheek, meeting her cerulean eyes with his own. "Anything, Kallen."

"Never..." she began, before swallowing and gathering her courage, "Never lie to me, Lelouch. I'll fight for you, and kill for you, and die for you, and love you, but you have to promise that you will never lie to me. I-I don't think I could take it if you did. I've sworn to place my absolute faith and trust in you. Whatever wrong you do, whatever evil, I will be your loyal dog, but you have to be _honest_ with me, even if you're not with anyone else. For both our sakes."

Lelouch opened his mouth to avert the demand, but froze. For some reason, he _couldn't_. Perhaps, deep down, he acknowledged she was right. Mao, Sayoko, Milly, Jeremiah, Kewell, even Nunnally, he lied to them all, in large or small ways.

Maybe what he needed was a true confidante, someone who could share the weight of the world on his shoulders. Someone who would never betray him.

"Alright," he agreed completely involuntarily. The word just seemed to slip out, followed by more. "I... have a proposition. Say I had an ability, the ability to force an individual to obey any single order I gave them, regardless of its nature. Would you want to use it to enforce this pact?"

Kallen's beautiful eyes widened by a tiny margin. "You can _force_ someone to obey you? Some kind of brainwashing?"

Lelouch shook his head. "Nothing so crude," he smirked, activating the Geass in his eyes. Kallen gasped at the familiar sigil appearing in his pupils.

"What..." she began hesitantly, unable to draw her enraptured gaze from his eyes, "What is it?"

"Geass," explained Lelouch as he deactivated it. "The Power of the Kings. It takes many forms, depending on the individual that wields it. I bear the Geass of Absolute Obedience: the ability to force the obedience of any that meet my gaze. Geass, and its derivative, Meld, are the backbone of Fulcrum. We would not exist without it."

Kallen remembered hearing the word 'Meld' when she was going in for her surgery, although she'd had no idea its meaning.

"But back to the point," said Lelouch, snapping her out of her introspection, "I can force the both of us to abide by your deal, if you want. I'll be unable to lie to you, and you'll be unable to doubt me. What do you think?"

To Lelouch's surprise, Kallen almost immediately shook her head. "Forced trust and forced honesty aren't worth anything. The only way way this relationship will have any meaning is if its voluntary on both our parts." Despite himself, Lelouch chuckled. This girl was nearly as insightful as Nunnally.

"I suppose you are right," he agreed.

Solemnly, he took hold of Kallen's hand and brought it so that it hovered it near his lips. "I, Lelouch vi Britannia, do swear that from this day forward I shall utter no falsehoods to Kallen Kozuki. Let it be so."

As Lelouch kissed her knuckles like a knight of old, Kallen smiled. "I already swore my loyalty to you in the SUV, but I will reaffirm it here. I hate Britannia, and wish to see it burn, but I can't rely on myself. Thus, I place my complete trust and faith in you. I will be your right hand, your loyal dog, your hand of vengeance. Your will shall be my direction. Your orders my guide. My love, yours to hold. Let it be so."

Finishing her oath, she leaned down and laid a gentle kiss of Lelouch's lips. " _Master Lelouch_ ," she whispered teasingly.

The kiss deepened, and the two embraced one more.

* * *

In the very bowels of the Fulcrum Base was a single, long corridor. Along this corridor were large, heavy doors that led into reinforced cells. In the largest and most secure of these cells, with two outfitted guards present outside it at all times despite its remoteness to the rest of the facility, was a single child-like figure.

A green-haired woman strolled confidently down the hallway to the cell in question, ignoring the guards completely even as they saluted and opened the door.

Once the thick door was secured behind her, C.C chuckled darkly at the figure before her.

"The mighty V.V," she mused mockingly, circling the comatose figure, "brought low by a child."

Vincent zi Britannia, brother to the Emperor of history's largest empire, was in bindings that went far beyond 'overkill'. Despite his childish body, the immortal's four limbs were all encased up to the joints in concrete blocks so heavy that they required forklifts to move. What's more, his eyes were covered, his ears muffled, and his mouth gagged.

As if all these were not enough, he was also kept in a heavy medical coma at all times, with the drugs routinely rotated in and out to prevent his body or Code from developing a resistance or immunity.

All of these security measures had been suggested by C.C. partly out of genuine security concerns, for both herself and her contractor, and partly out of vindictiveness towards her former captor. The blindfold and earmuffs prevented him from discerning his location should he wake, making it impossible for him to communicate with Charles or Marianne.

The gag conveniently kept him from mentioning anything potentially compromising, like how he'd assassinated Marianne.

While her contractor was firmly on the path towards fulfilling his end of the deal, that might change should he figure out that the main target of his vengeance was actually already in his possession.

Chuckling to herself once more, she took in the wicked-looking medical implements attached to the immortal. When the original Directorate researchers had first developed that 'Meld' substance from her DNA, she'd been entirely unable to fathom the heights Asplund and Ashford had been able to take it. As she was entirely unwilling to let them extract the compound from her Code, they'd resorted to their other resident immortal.

She almost wished that she could keep V.V awake, so that he'd be able feel the constant extraction process, as she had. But that was impractical, and dangerous. Instead, she'd just have to satisfy herself with the occasional visit to gloat.

Smirking, she patted the comatose immortal on the cheek, before turning and departing once more.

"Sleep tight, Vincent," she called mockingly over her shoulder as the soldiers opened the door for her.


	7. Chapter 7: Birth of the Black Knights

**Hello and welcome back ladies and gentleworms, Neolyph here with more Darwin! As always, sorry for the weight. I'm balancing two other stories plus college and a tentative independent novel. So I've been busy. Not much else to say here other than to please read, review, etc.**

 **Now for the reviews!**

 **Imperator's slave: Mao the Refrain's actual Geass was a bit odd, so I basically just gave her a similar one to Charles, yes.**

 **RandomReview: I agree that there is currently a lack of direct conflict for Lelouch. That will come later. Right now, Lelouch is executing his brutal opening moves against a wholly unprepared opponent. Once Britannia has a second to dig its heels in, he's going to be seeing some Knight of the Round, O.S.I, and other goodies.**

 **Victorrules: Well, bear in mind that the idea of using a supernatural power to force _yourself_ or literally _the most loyal man on earth_ into doing something doesn't sound like something that would come in handy all that much. Not to mention it was the sex talking.**

 **AnimeA55Kicker: I'd say no, just like how you can't Geass someone into doing something they don't know how to do.**

 **Now, on with the show!**

Chapter 7: Birth of the Black Knights

Hot water streamed through the air in its journey to the shower drain, soaking Kallen in the meanwhile. The redhead was cleaning herself in the private bathroom of her new master's office.

Master Lelouch... even after learning the truth of his identity, she couldn't help but view the charismatic demagogue in any light but from a subordinate to a superior. Even after sleeping with him, the notion of referring to him informally just felt... _wrong_ , like swearing in a shrine. He wore authority with such ease that it was practically second nature to him—intrinsic to his personality.

And don't even get her started on the whole 'Geass' thing. If she hadn't seen his eyes supernaturally alter and spellbind her, she might have thought that the stress of leading his own little private rebellion had taken its tole on her newfound moral compass.

But she couldn't deny it. When those symbols had appeared in his eyes—the symbol from his mask upside-down, she belatedly realized—she'd been unable to move. She'd been paralyzed by his stare like a mouse before a snake.

Was that Geass? Or was that just Master Lelouch?

Honestly, she wasn't sure which answer would scare her more.

Letting the steaming water trickle down her body to clean off the sweat from their impromptu intercourse, she ran her fingers through her soaked hair. That was something else to consider. She'd not only just lost her virginity, but to a _Britannian prince_ no less. She wasn't certain whether that was sad or ironic. Rationally, she knew that she should have pulled that trigger. The royal family were the living embodiment of Britannia; every single one of them deserved a lead fucking facial.

But despite that, it was like her finger had been paralyzed. The revolver had a hair trigger—the slightest twitch would have permanently ruined that _perfect_ face of his and kept him from throwing her world into turmoil, but she just couldn't pull the goddamn trigger.

Instead she'd let him talk, and now she couldn't say that she regretted it. When she'd kissed him, realizing how truly similar they were, it had awoken something inside her. It was just such a fucking _release_ , like ripping those Purists apart with her Knightmare had been. When he'd slammed her onto the desk, the same red haze had overtaken her. Next thing she knew they were both on his couch, panting and sweaty, and she was making demands of honesty from him.

It made sense, in a way. She knew from his work as Zero that she could trust his cause. But the promise she'd extracted on that couch made it so that she could trust him as a Britannian prince and lover.

Speaking of which... well, she was conflicted.

On the one hand their first time had been mind-boggingly good. He'd kept her up all night reminding her of that fact. He clearly had experience. On the other hand, he _clearly_ had experience.

Perhaps it had been too much to hope for the someone like her would have a normal romance. After all, true love was for fairy tales. And she wasn't a princess, even if her love was a prince. 'Happily Ever After' didn't seem to be in the cards.

Yet, in spite of all that, she still felt a genuine connection between herself and Master Lelouch. _Something_ was most certainly there, even if it wasn't the sort of love you read about in stories.

It was the reason why she knew that it didn't really matter who else her master was involved with. In the name of her vengeance and her hatred and her love, she would follow him to Hell. Because after years upon years of her and the others sitting on their asses in the ghetto, waiting for a savior to come along and show them the way, she'd found hers.

And his name was Lelouch vi Fucking Britannia.

* * *

As Kallen cleaned herself off in bathroom, Lelouch was reclining in his desk's chair and trying to process what had just happened.

He cursed himself for his impulsiveness in ceding to Kallen's demand. Doing so jeopardized his entire control of her. Now, if she caught him in even a single lie, her carefully cultivated trust and faith in him would be broken.

 _Why_ had he agreed? The question haunted him. It wasn't like him to make spur of the moment decisions, especially on such important matters.

Usually, with all his other lovers he was able to separate his feelings from his work. He had never let his love interfere with his crusade, and he had never made promises that would endanger it. Yet he had with Kallen. Had he underestimated the depths of his enamourment with the redhead? Had he unwittingly given Kallen far more control over him than he was comfortable with? The thought brought chills to his spine.

Groaning, his hands subconsciously slid open a side drawer on the desk to withdraw a cigarette from a pack along with an engraved, metal lighter. He placed the cigarette between his lips, taking comfort in the familiar weight.

Rubbing his fingers along the bumps that had been imprinted into the lighter to spell out 'Nunnally' in Braille, a quick flick lifted the cover off and sparked the flint wheel with the ease of long habit. He held the flame to the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply, taking in a satisfying lungful of smoke.

Technically, he only smoked when he was stressed, but he'd been stressed ever since Jeremiah, Kewell, and Asplund had abducted him from Pendragon. Tobacco was just something Reuben had introduced him to—in addition to gambling on chess with the nobility, but that was another matter. Sex was his other usual outlet, but for obvious reasons he felt that another round with his new piece would simply exacerbate matters.

In this moment, he was realizing that Kallen Kozuki may be a far greater threat to his revolution than anticipated.

Exhaling a cloud of spiced smoke, Lelouch massaged his temple with his free hand. It wasn't like he could just avoid lying to her, either. He'd already sent Mao to 'convince' Kallen's old group to fulfill their part in the formation of the Black Knights. Right now, he wasn't sure how Kallen would react to the news of what he'd done to them. The dreadfully alien sensation of lacking control in a situation was clouding his mind, rendering him unable to predict Kallen's response.

Mao's orders in the event of the cell going rogue had been to rewrite whatever memories were necessary to silence their pedantic moral objections. They would fall in line, but at what cost?

Perhaps he'd be able to justify it, but that was risky. Maybe—

The bathroom door opened, and a refreshed but still red-faced Kallen emerged. Lelouch couldn't help but pause to appreciate her beauty. She was dressed once more in her uniform with the hood down and mask off, and her slightly damp hair was spiked up in her preferred style. She was a warrior goddess in human form. A hellhound that thought itself a retriever. Despite his hesitance, he acknowledged that she was still quite possibly his finest acquisition, regardless of the price.

Her reddened face darkened as she noticed his examination. The corner of his mouth twitched. At least he still had that power over her. Even if her trust in him _was_ eventually broken, he would still hold her love in his hands. And that may be enough.

"Refreshed?" he queried gently with a raised eyebrow. She had been a virgin when he'd taken her, and in his experience with Milly, Sayoko, and Mao, women were always sore for quite a while after their first time. It was best to be accommodating.

Kallen hesitantly nodded, although Lelouch noted a slight limp in her step. He put out his cigarette in the ashtray, rose to his feet, and moved to assist her. When his hand wrapped around her elbow for support, she twitched and seemed about to glare at him in irritation over the condescension, before stumbling and nearly toppling.

Perspective thus gained, Kallen was more willing to lean into Lelouch's side and rely on his aid as he carefully led her to one of the two seats arranged before his desk, easing her into the same chair she'd been seated in before she had pointed a gun at him. Said gun had been returned to its place in Lelouch's shoulder holster by this point to prevent any... accidents.

Right as Lelouch was about to begin speaking, a soft rapping came from the other side of his office door.

"Enter," he sighed, sending an apologetic look towards Kallen. The door opened to reveal Sayoko, having done away with her field mask. While Kallen was in the shower, Lelouch had used his workstation computer to send out an alert ending Masquerade Protocol on the base.

As Sayoko entered, her sharp brown eyes honed in on Kallen and narrowed ever so slightly. Lelouch wasn't sure what precisely had given it away, but he had absolutely no doubt that the assassin had gleaned the details of his and Kallen's interactions over the last hour and was not particularly pleased. Of course, she had known that he had intentions towards Kallen, but that didn't change her displeasure at another woman joining her master's growing list of consorts.

Of course, Lelouch had a few ideas about how to make it up to the ninja, but that was for later.

He cleared his throat, drawing his assassin's attention back to him before Kallen noticed the hostility. "I asked not to be disturbed," he reminded her chidingly.

"Apologies, Master," she replied, bowing at the waist in penitence, "but there was an urgent matter that I require your authorization for. Time is of the essence, so I thought it better to interrupt than risk the operation."

"Sayoko, you're on the Board of Directors; what are you planning that requires _my_ —" began Lelouch before pausing mid-sentence as he remembered Kallen sitting in front of him.

"How rude of me," he scolded himself, turning to face the confused redhead. "Kallen, this is Sayoko Shinozaki, our head of intelligence. I believe you met her under the name Ms. Black."

"Ah," exclaimed Kallen, her eyes lighting up in recognition as she stood and bowed formally to the ninja. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Shinozaki."

Sayoko smiled back, and only years of companionship, and later romance allowed Lelouch to notice the nearly imperceptible crease of irritation on her forehead as she returned the bow and greeting. There was a polite pause before both parties returned to their former positions.

"As I was saying," continued Lelouch once formalities had been attended to, "you're on the Board, Sayoko. What do you need _my_ authorization for?"

"I would like your permission to utilize the Iscariot Paladins for Operation Caligula," replied Sayoko calmly. Despite the placid tone it was delivered with, Lelouch nearly lost his composure at the request.

Operation Caligula was the plan hatched just over a month ago to seed Kyoto's security forces with Sayoko's Shadows, so that they would be ready to subdue at a moment's notice should they or the JLF become a problem.

The Iscariots were a pack of vicious fanatics that he and Sayoko had gone on a special trip to Italy in order to recruit. They were named for Judas Iscariot, who was in turned named for the Sicarii, an ancient order of Jewish zealots that fought the Roman occupation of Israel with brutal assassination and terrorism. The new Iscariots, originating in the Vatican, were a Catholic quasi-cult that believed the Darwinistic, nobility-based New Anglican Church of Britannia to be a heresy, and Charles zi Britannia a heretic for founding it.

When they found themselves lacking Britannian targets in their homeland, they had turned their blades to any anti-war E.U figures they could access. This being a problem, several of Lelouch's E.U contacts had requested that he attempt to take the group off their hands and put them to work elsewhere.

They had been _very_ difficult to convince, but eventually they were persuaded of his aims and 'divine' abilities. Once that was accomplished they quickly swore themselves to his service and joined the ranks of Fulcrum. An introduction to the wonders of Meld made their more aggressive members a force to be reckoned with. Numbering just over three dozen, they were Fulcrum's elite shock troopers. The former House Guard may have been Fulcrums's last line of defense, but the Iscariot Paladins were the organization's hammer and fist.

Due to their... enthusiastic nature however, Lelouch had made their deployment one of the few things that even the Board had to seek his permission on. They were hammers, after all, not scalpels. Using them recklessly was a major risk to operational security.

"I trust you would not request their services lightly Sayoko," he relented, "but know that I will expect a full report of your plans later. And I will be _most_ cross should I find that you've deployed them without due cause..."

"Of course, Master," she consented with a bow. Under normal circumstances she would have been offended at the implied slight against her professionalism, but the Iscariots were borderline uncontrollable by anyone but Lelouch himself. If he wasn't there personally to reign them in, they could get very quickly out of control. She was confident in her plan, however.

Lelouch nodded. "Very good. Was there anything else you needed while you're here? I'll likely be occupied a while still as I explain to Kallen the finer details of our little organization."

"Nothing else, Master, except that Soresi bade me to remind you of the Board meeting in two hours."

"Tell him that I will be in attendance. Also, have the kitchens send meals and coffee up for Kallen and myself. It's nearing noon and neither of us got any sleep last night. Dismissed."

The ninja's eye twitched imperceptibly, but once again only Lelouch noticed. She tightly bowed once more before departing, and Lelouch almost felt a pang of guilt at his parting shot before shaking it off. Jealousy was not something he could not allow from Sayoko. It would disrupt team cohesion and make his personal life all the more difficult. He'd have to prey on her more _exotic_ tastes to convince her that perhaps having another beautiful woman thrown into the mix would not be a bad thing for either of them.

Putting that aside, he turned back to Kallen who had been patiently waiting through the whole exchange and smiled slightly.

"Now where was I?"

* * *

Only once Sayoko was fully clear of her master's office did she allow a deep scowl to mar her typically placid face. She knew that Master Lelouch had made that last statement deliberately to remind her of her place. She knew that in the grand scheme of things she was but one of his consorts, but it still hurt to be reminded of that.

Sighing, she repeated to herself that she had accepted this when she'd entered into a relationship with him. It had been made quite clear that while Master Lelouch was... open to her affections, it would not be an exclusive relationship. 'The Emperor has one-hundred and eight consorts,' he would joke. 'With all the stress of leading this organization, I'm starting to see the practicality in that.'

At least she could console herself with the knowledge that he would almost certainly spend the next few days making it up to her. He didn't tolerate jealousy, but he did strive to be fair with them. She knew that she, Milly, and little Mao would all be seeing their fair share of their mutual lover to ensure that the peace was kept between them.

She suppressed a soft snort. Even in his love life Master Lelouch was tactical and methodical.

After several minutes of walking, her path led her to the bowels of the base, where the prisoner cells were kept. She entered the office near the interrogation room and exchanged a salute with the Warden, one of her many little Shadows. His artificial Geass allowed him to control the movements of any within his sight. This unique skillset make him specially suited for prisoner control.

"How is he?" she inquired, looking past him to gaze at the security monitors. A haggard Diethard Ried sat slumped at a metal desk in the interrogation room, still in his pajamas.

"Compliant, Ma'am," replied the Warden. His square jaw, scars, and military-style haircut gave him the impression of a meathead, but he was undeniably good at managing and breaking prisoners. "No outbursts or escape attempts. Not even a request for water or the bathroom. Ms. Grey hasn't had the chance to read him yet, but if you want my professional opinion, he's susceptible to turning."

Sayoko smiled. It had been a risk extracting him from the Hi-TV tower instead of killing him, but it seemed that it would pay off. He had begged for his life on his knees, swearing up and down that he would tell everything he knew about the inner-workings of Carine's regime if she would spare him.

The offer had tempted her. Publicists were a lot like priests; you had to tell them all of your dirty little secrets—and Ried had been the head media publicist for the Vicereine.

Needless to say, she was quite intrigued by the secrets she could pull from his head. Of course, anything that came out of his mouth had the potential for falsehood, so she was taking the far more direct route.

"Get a double-time on Ms. Grey's reading," she ordered. "The longer it takes to get his information, the less actionable it will be."

The Warden saluted in acknowledgment as Sayoko turned to depart the office.

Now for that other spot of business...

She navigated the base's many corridors once more until she reached an isolated set of barracks. The walls were done up with crucifixes and inscribed with Latin verses from the Bible. This was the section of barracks claimed by the Iscariot.

Several dozen figures in black cassocks snapped to attention as she entered. They parted to reveal a giant of a man who could very easily give Gottwald a run for his money.

"Yer back I see, Ms. Black," he leered with a thick Irish accent. "I take it that means Saint Lelouch has granted this mission his blessing?"

"It does," she confirmed and the giant grinned viciously. Father Anderson was even more of a vatjob than Jeremiah. While Lelouch's knight kept his visible augmentations at a minimum to avoid undue attention in public, the priest before Sayoko had given up all subtlety. Rather than bother with bone lacing, vat-grown muscle, and biofiber skin, Anderson had opted for full-on cybernetic enhancement until he was more metal than man. He had a reputation for being the only one on base capable of taking on Gottwald in the sparring ring.

"Hear that lads?" he barked, turning to face the assembled paladins behind him and grinning viciously. "We've been sanctioned by God's messenger himself! Once more will we aid in his holy cause and smite the unclean! Saint Lelouch calls on us again!"

The mad priest's smile broadened as he raised his hands in the manner of a sermon.

" _I ask o' thee: Whit art thou?_ " he addressed in Latin.

"We are Iscariot, the Zealots of Judas!" they responded simultaneously in Britannian, forming ranks before the Irish zealot.

" _In that case, Iscariot, I ask o' thee: Whit dost thou hold in thy right hand?_ " Anderson barked, managing to somehow mesh the tones of a drill sergeant and a revivalist preacher.

"Daggers and poisons!" the paladins professed, drawing their signature _sicae_ from the folds of their cassocks. The twisted steel of the knives glinted in the dim light of the barracks, lending the ceremony a certain ominous air.

" _In that case, Iscariot, I ask o' thee: Whit dost thou hold in thy left hand?_ " continued the priest, his fanatical smile growing as his flock worked themselves into a frenzy.

"Thirty silver pieces and a rope!" they shot back once more, retrieving the standard-issue Fulcrum cyanide capsules from their hip pouches.

" _In that case, Iscariot, whit art thou?_ " finished Father Anderson softly, before joining his convocation in prayer.

" _We are as apostles, yet not as apostles._

 _As adherents, yet not as adherents._

 _As believers, yet not as believers._

 _As traitors, yet not as traitors._

 _We are disciples of death._

 _Only bowing and praying forgiveness of the Lord;_

 _Only bowing and defeating the enemies of the Lord._

 _Wielding our dagger in the night and poisoning the evening meal,_

 _We are assassins; the Assassins Judas._

 _When the time comes, we shall cast our thirty silver pieces at the altar_

 _And hang thy heads from our rope._

 _Thereby we shall fall to Hell in cabal._

 _Lined up in square formation, and seek to do battle with the countless legions of Hell."_

" ** _We are the Iscariot._** "

Sayoko let slip a small smile of her own. These were precisely whom she needed for Operation Caligula. Those short-sighted relics in Kyoto would rue the day they started poaching Fulcrum assets.

* * *

"So," began the Emperor with an air of forced civility, "have you anything to say for yourself?"

Carine swallowed, gazing up at the imposing figure of her father on the video screen. "No explanation, Your Majesty," she breathed softly. They were familiar words among the royal family—reserved for the times when they had screwed up utterly.

"I have given you far too much free reign in your governance," Charles continued, glaring down at his daughter balefully. "Area 11 is perhaps the single most important region of the Empire next to the homeland itself, and you've let its entire native population rise up against you overnight!"

The Vicereine flinched. "I-I can make this right, Your Majesty," she stammered. "I've just spoken to Duke Ashford, and together we've taken measures to regain control over the entire Area. I've drawn from the garrison at Mt. Fuji and when consolidated with my forces it will be easy to—"

"YOU'VE WHAT?" snarled the Emperor, spittle flying from his typically refined visage. "Did you just say that you've drawn forces away from Mt. Fuji? The single largest source of Sakuradite in the Empire? The beating _heart_ of our war machine? You've taken soldiers and equipment away from manning it to put down a small bit of civil unrest?"

"Yes," Carine whimpered.

Charles seethed for a moment. "Listen here you foolish little girl: you will pull _no_ forces from the Mt. Fuji mines. You will focus the _entirety_ of your available forces on the Tokyo settlement, the mines, and the naval base in the North. You will take no unnecessary offensive actions and will sit on your hands until I can send along one of your more competent siblings to clean up your mess. Consider your little 'Purist' experiment _over_. You have demonstrated no control of your Numbers."

Carine made to protest, but the noise died in her throat. She heard her father converse briefly with Bismark, but she couldn't make out the words. The conversation went back and forth for several moments before he addressed her once more.

"Your sister Cornelia's forces have just started a campaign in Spain. If memory serves, she has experience in pacifying rebellious Areas. I'm told that she'll be ready to redeploy into your Area in just over a month's time. Pull back behind your walls and keep your head down. If you can ensure that Sakuradite flow remains uninterrupted, perhaps I may not strip you of your name once this is over."

As the video winked out, Carine shivered. She could _not_ let Daddy disown her—that would mean the end of everything she'd ever worked for: her status, her reputation, the Purist Faction.

" _Consider your little 'Purist' experiment_ over."

She couldn't let that happen. She had built the Purists with her own two hands from distinguished members of the enlightened circles she traveled. If they were dissolved, she was ruined. Even if she kept her name she would be the laughing stock of the courts for the rest of her life.

No. Daddy wasn't going to destroy everything she had built. She wouldn't _let_ him. She would prove that the Purity was the true philosophy of Britannia. She would prove that this was but a snag in the route to pacification.

But if she was going to go behind Daddy's back, she was going to have to be cunning. He wouldn't tolerate any direct violation of his orders to consolidate forces in the three pillars of Area 11: the Tokyo Settlement, the core of Area 11 and the seat of the Ashford Military-Industrial Complex; the Mt. Fuji mines, the fortress-like series of quarries that fueled the Britannian army; and the Marianne vi Britannia Naval Facility, the well-stocked navy base on the Northern tip of the Area that when combined with the Tokyo docks maintained the naval fleet around Area 11 that kept the Chinese Federation at bay.

Avoid any _unnecessary_ offensive actions.

Her main hurdle in dealing with Zero was that he was likely capable of resupplying his forces using the same sources as the JLF. She didn't know where Zero was, but she knew that the JLF was hiding somewhere in Narita. Her best shot at Zero was to destroy the JLF and in the course find their weapon supplier, then use that to cut off Zero and bleed him dry.

But how to attack the JLF without violating her orders to consolidate in her three main hard points?

An idea flitted through her mind and she snapped up in epiphany. She darted over to her office's war table and pulled up a map of the Area over its display. With a few taps of the nearby keypad, road maps appeared and routes were calculated. Carine grinned.

The most direct course from Tokyo to the MvB Naval Facility went straight through the Narita Mountains...

* * *

As Charles ended the call with his daughter, he allowed himself to sigh and sink into his throne. Dealing with Carine had always been... _spiritually taxing_ , and this was the worst she'd ever been. Honestly, he had no idea why he'd ever put her in charge of the Area in the first place. Something as critical as Area 11 should have been managed by someone more capable.

But then again, his competent children were in short supply. Who else could he have given it to? Schneizel? Too busy. Odysseus? Too tepid. Clovis? Too frivolous. Cornelia? Too important. It was bad enough that he was having to redirect her in the first place. Just a short excursion to Area 11 was still going to set the war in Europe back by months.

If a _single_ Sakuradite container failed to ship out of Tokyo on time, he didn't care what kind of earful he would be getting from her mother—he swore he'd take Carine's head as an example.

"Bismark, fetch Vanderbilt for me," he ordered eventually. The knight bowed and exited through a side door to the throne room. He returned several minutes later with Charles' Imperial Spymaster, Robert Vanderbilt.

"I trust you're familiar with the events in Area 11?" he drawled to the kneeling figure before him.

"Your Majesty," replied Vanderbilt with the confidence of a snake, "it's my _job_ to know everything that goes on in your illustrious and holy empire."

"Good," said Charles shortly, "that saves time. I've given my daughter orders on how to handle the situation, but she has always been difficult. I want you to set up the OSI in Area 11 and begin feeding me new on everything that goes on there. I read the incident reports from the various overrun bases. Whoever this 'Zero' is, he's smart—smart enough to be a legitimate threat to Carine if she isn't careful. Keep me apprised on Carine's movements, and dig up on what you can on 'Zero'."

"As you command, Your Majesty."

Charles gave a satisfied nod before pausing in thought. "Also," he tacked on as an after-thought, "look into the Ashford Consortium. Carine mentioned that Duke Ashford helped her concoct that asinine plan of hers, but I know Reuben and he'd never endorse something so foolhardy. Something not right with that..."

Vanderbilt rose from his kneeling position and bowed once more, light glinting off his glasses menacingly.

" _Nothing_ shall escape my sight, Your Majesty," he swore.

* * *

It took two hours for Lelouch to induct Kallen into Fulcrum. Some of the minor points had been glossed over, but he'd managed to hit the broad strokes well enough to give her a good idea of the organization's layout and hierarchy, along with its aims and methodology. The rest she could pick up over the course of the next few weeks.

He was just finishing up on some minor details when Sancia poked her head inside to remind him of the Board meeting. His eyes glanced towards the clock and confirmed this.

Exhaling softly, he ashed his cigarette and motioned for Kallen to rise with him.

"Come along for this," he ordered. "It'll give you a better idea of Fulcrum's inner structure, along with where we currently stand after yesterday's operations."

The redhead stood obediently and followed him from the office. Sancia and Lucretia, who had been standing guard outside the door, wordlessly trailed after pair. They were joined on the way by Alice and Dalque, and together they progressed to the meeting room.

They ended up being the last ones there. The rest of the Directors were already seated when Lelouch entered with Kallen, but they rose in respect. He waved for them to be seated, before taking his place at the head of the table. The Irregulars moved to the corners of the room and Kallen wavered for a moment before moving to stand at Lelouch's shoulder.

He suppressed a smile.

"Welcome once again everyone," began Lelouch, surveying the table. "We have a new face today with us. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to Kallen Kozuki, our new liason to the Black Knights." Those seated affixed their gazes on the redhead, who looked uncomfortable at the attention. Lelouch subtly reached out and brushed her leg reassuringly, using the table and his coat to disguise the movement. She shivered, but stood straighter.

Lelouch's gloved hand, the one free of the cigarette, began motioning around the table. "Kallen, this is the Fulcrum Board of Directors; the ones who handle our day-to-day operations. You've met my knight Jeremiah, my adviser Kewell, our medical researcher Thomas, and our head of intelligence Sayoko. You met them under the names Orange, Green, Blue, and Black."

Kallen's eyes darted between the respective figures, putting names to faces. She nodded in greeting and they returned the gesture.

"You have yet to meet little Mao, our chief interrogator," he continued, gesturing to the not-so-little girl on his right. As Kallen directer her gaze towards the purple-haired agent, Lelouch caught the briefest flash of red in Mao's grey eyes before it vanished. His frown matched hers, although for different reasons. He understood her curiosity and jealousy, but he had explicitly forbade her from 'reading' other Fulcrum members without his permission.

Filing a mental note for later, he turned to Reuben. "Last but not least is our secret weapon, Reuben K. Ashford, our head of production and material research. He makes most of our toys, and together with Thomas designed your control rig. This whole organization wouldn't be possible without him."

"You flatter me, Your Highness," chuckled Reuben. "Something tells me you'd manage without me. It's nice to be appreciated, however."

"I'm sure," Lelouch agreed, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray before him. "Now, let's get down to business. I read Sayoko's report while I was briefing Kallen this morning, but does anyone have anything else to report before we begin?"

Reuben raised his hand briefly, and Lelouch motioned for him to speak. "Just as you anticipated, the Vicereine paid me a visit early this morning to try and requisition some new frames. I redirected her towards Thomas' brother and the JLF as you instructed. I had to offer her some of the Consortium's security frames to keep her from getting too frustrated, but I doubt a few dozen aging Glasgows are going to be the reinforcements she needs. She put in an order for new frames, of course, but I convinced her they would take a month. If she's not dealt with by then, the process could very easily be sabotaged."

"I was not aware of these particular orders," interjected an amused Asplund. "What was that about my dear older brother?"

Ashford chuckled. "His Highness ordered that if the Vicereine tried to pressure me into supplying her, I should redirect her efforts towards your brother's little project for Prince Schneizel. It's a dead-end, but one she'll spend countless resources trying to make use of. Short of the Emperor sending in a Knight of the Round, no Britannian out there's going to make that thing move. But she'll try her damnedest anyway.."

"That always was Lloyd's weakness," Thomas sighed. "He never took the human element into account with his work. He could design the greatest machine on earth, and never thing about how you were supposed to _use_ it."

"Very good," continued Lelouch, "very good indeed Reuben. Just play along and stall for now. Throw her a bone every now and then. What's important is that you remain on her good side and under her radar. Anyone else?"

Sayoko shifted. "I made a minor judgement call earlier this morning that didn't make it into my report. When I was carrying out the operation at the Hi-TV tower, I decided to extract Diethard Reid rather than leave him to die in the bombing. I felt that he had valuable intelligence and that the explosion would cover his kidnapping."'

"A brilliant move," praised Lelouch, both in genuine acknowledgment and out of a desire to balance his earlier slight against the ninja, "one I should have thought of. If anyone knows of blackmail material on the Vicereine's regime, it would be Reid. Well done."

"Thank you, Master," replied Sayoko simply, but he could see that his praise had put to rest her slight grievance over his subtle scolding regarding his night with Kallen.

Seeing that there were no other notes, Lelouch moved on. "As for today's agenda, in a few hours I will be addressing the various resistance groups that will form the core of the Black Knights. The Shadows have reported that Carine is consolidating her forces around the Settlement, the naval base in the North, and the Mt. Fuji mines. This is good. It gives us free reign to move openly between the ghettos without worrying about Britannian patrols."

"She's taking the defensive then?" Kewell pointed out. "That doesn't seem right. We thought she'd be cowed, but not _that_ cowed. It's not in her character."

Lelouch paused. It _was_ off, but within the predicted possibilities. "We _did_ anticipate this potentiality. In all honesty, it's one of the smarter move she could have made. Perhaps she consulted with Nu or even Cornelia—no, Cornelia wouldn't give her the time of day. Carine used to bully Euphemia when they were younger. Schneizel maybe. Either way, this works for us. She's given up the offensive, but then again she doesn't need it. _We're_ the ones on a timetable."

Solemn nods went around the board members. This was not a time when they could afford to be passive.

"Moving on," Lelouch continued, "on the Japanese front, our reports are that Kyoto's spies naturally became _very_ interested in learning more about us. Our cells kept quiet, and the new recruits didn't know anything. Sayoko, I've read over your outline for Operation Caligula and I approve." The ninja nodded in thanks, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. It would have been hard to withdraw the Iscariots from their current positions.

"Regarding the cells, as we predicted, their numbers have swelled exponentially overnight. We've brought back the Japanese fighting spirit. They simply await someone to direct them. That's where Kallen and I come in."

Understanding expressions looked back at Lelouch from those seated at the table. None of this was news to them. The points Lelouch was discussing had been worked out at length months in advance. Kallen was the only new element, so the explanation was primarily for her benefit.

"Kallen, with her background in the ghettos, will be the liaison to the Black Knights—the friendly, human face and Zero's Right Hand. I will be Zero, the enigmatic, charismatic figurehead for the organization. The strong yet distant anchor around which the Black Knights will rally. My results will keep them loyal, and my distance will elevate me in their eyes to something beyond human."

Lelouch nodded in a decisive manner. "Now, with all of that said, does anyone have anything to say before I address the soldiers for the first time? Kallen and I go live in thirty minutes to all six ghettos."

Silence filled the room for several seconds, before Lelouch deigned it a long enough lack of objections.

"Good. Alice, Lucretia, you take Kallen to get makeup on. Mao, I _will_ be speaking to you after I give the address. You know why. The rest of you are dismissed except Kewell. I'd like to go over my speech with you one more time before I go on."

With a number of murmured affirmations and the general scraping of chairs on carpet, the room quickly evacuated. Alice and Lucretia silently peeled off the corners to retrieve Kallen and guide her to where a Geass'd team of makeup artists brought in from a nearby television crew were waiting. This left Lelouch alone with Kewell, Sancia, and Dalque.

Kewell moved and took a seat in the chair on Lelouch's right hand.

"Alright," said Lelouch as he opened the binder in front of him, "I was feeling uncertain on my delivery of this section _here_."

* * *

Tetsuo Onmyojo sat uncertainly in the rotting seat of the long-abandoned Matsumoto Highschool auditorium. Seated around the other decomposing chairs were hundreds of other fresh recruits like himself. His mother had always claimed him too young to get involved with a resistance group like the Heirs of Nobunaga, but after the shit that went down last night, her tune had finally changed.

In all of Tetsuo's eighteen years, he'd never seen anything like it. He'd just gotten finished eating dinner with his mother when Reo from the Heirs dropped in.

The resistance fighter didn't say a ton, only delivered the warning that a big operation was going down that night and that if they didn't want to get caught up in it they should hide in the old subway tunnels with everyone else for the night. Tetsuo's mother left. Tetsuo stayed out of curiosity.

For several hours he watched the couple dozen guys from the Heirs rush back and forth through the streets before finally a lone Britannian cargo truck rolled slowly through the streets. He'd held his breath, wondering if the Heirs were planning to rip the truck off.

Instead, to his amazement, the truck stopped of its own accord and a hooded figure emerged from the cab and started talking with Kaito, the goddamn _head_ of the Heirs. The hooded person gestured to the back of the truck, and at Kaito's command a handful of Heirs emerged to start unloading crates from the truck. The cherry on the top though, was when one of the Heirs went into the truck and came out in a motherfucking, bone-fide, fully-functioning _Sutherland_.

Despite the knowledge of what they'd done to his people, Tetsuo had always been a bit of a nerd when it came to Knightmares. The Sutherland was the most high-tech one on the field, at least until Britannia introduced the Gloucester for more than just private testing.

He found out he wasn't the only one watching. Hundreds of curious young would-be revolutionaries like himself had watched from the wings as the Heirs ran around the whole ghetto, planting odd little cylinders that only Tetsuo and a few others recognized as chaos mines.

With bated breath, he witnessed the masked figure from the truck drive it to the base of the wall and rush back to the Heirs. It gave what looked like some sort of speech before, at the stroke of midnight, the truck exploded.

It was everything Tetsuo had ever wanted without knowing it. It was the blood he'd secretly craved. The justice he'd always sought deep down.

The whole experience spoke deeply to his soul. Everything about the scene resonated with him, and he knew he wasn't alone. Hundreds of wide, excited eyes watched from behind windows and shutters as the Purists were shot like dogs in the streets. The roads were stained red as the blood flowed down the gutters. Screams and gunshots echoed down the avenues and alleys, to an appreciative audience.

When three dozen Sutherlands driven by his fellow Japanese roared past him half an hour later, Tetsuo knew that he was going to join the Heirs, his mother be damned.

But it turned out that was unnecessary. As his freshly-liberated neighbors took to the streets in celebration, his mother had rushed back into the apartment and pulled him into a hug. Sniffling, she told him that he had her blessing to fight the Britannians. That in this night, for the first time since she first saw the bombers in the sky above her home, she had hope.

He'd kissed her forehead, bade her goodbye, and departed that instant. Fireworks were being shot off left and right, and liquor flowed freely as he navigated through the streets. Never before had he ever seen them this crowded. Under normal circumstance, a crowd of Japanese looked enticing to the Purist guards, so rarely did you see more than four people at the same place in the ghetto.

Despite this, Tetsuo was having to shoulder past people to finally near the target of his search: Reo. On the spot, he'd offered his services to the Heirs of Nobunaga.

"You're the twenty-second so far," Reo had laughed, adding his name to a list he was carrying. Tetsuo looked around in surprise to see around him a few dozen other youths from his neighborhood. He knew most of them, but a few were unfamiliar faces.

"Reo, wasn't it?" inquired a soft but deep voice from behind Reo. The skinny resistance fighter nearly snapped to attention as he whirled.

"Yes sir," he responded with an uncomfortable stiffness, "how can I be of assistance?"

Tetsuo looked past Reo to see the hooded figure from earlier, still obscured by a featureless white mask. "Relax," the figure commanded gently, "tonight is a night for celebration. I just came by to ask you for your recruitment tally so far. I'm compiling a preliminary estimate to report in to Master Zero."

"Twenty-two as of just now, sir. I've been taking down names as you instructed," Reo replied with a degree more of ease.

"Good," praised the figure, "carry on and enjoy yourself. Just remember to keep marking names. If you'll excuse me, I've got another two dozen of your comrades to check in with."

Like a shadow, the figure seamlessly turned and melded back into the mingling crowd. Tetsuo blinked, and lost track of him completely.

"Who the hell was that?" he asked in bewilderment.

"I'm excited," Reo said, "I haven't been able to talk about before now. Well, you know how me and the rest of the Heirs kind of dropped off the map about nine months ago?"

Tetsuo nodded in confusion. It had caused him a great deal of distress when his idols it seemed had gone silent.

"Well _he's_ why," Reo explained, gesturing in the direction of the disappeared figure, "or more specifically his boss, Master Zero." The few dozen recruits milling around the area began listening intently to the man's story.

"Mr. Maroon there shows up out of the blue nine months ago. Knows all of us by name, and extends us an offer to _change_ things—not just blow up some trucks or smuggle food into the ghetto, but _real_ change. Says he works for a proper revolutionary, goes by the title Master Zero, with _beyond_ Kyoto-level resources. Now I thought the guy was nuts, but after all this I'm convinced that when I actually meet Master Zero I'm gonna kiss him on the mouth."

Reo paused when an attractive girl waded through the rapt audience to present the conquering hero with a bottle of proper whiskey. The revolutionary took a big swig to whet his throat before continuing with the girl draping herself over his arm.

"So anyway, Mr. Maroon, and through him Master Zero, they make us an offer. Basically, we agree to lie low and they set us up with training, supplies, equipment, plans, the works. I'll be honest, we had no idea what the fuck we were doing before this lot showed up. Kaito, God bless him, said yes. Next thing we know it's nine months later, we're all trained for motherfucking _Knightmares_ and Mr. Maroon's bringing us a truck full of explosives, guns, and a Sutherland. And from there, well, you know the rest."

"What was that with him asking about recruitment?"

Reo looked left and right before leaning in. "I'm not really supposed to talk about this yet, but this Master Zero, he's got plans beyond just getting the Britannians out of the ghettos. He's putting together a fucking army. We're not the only ghetto he freed tonight. We just got word in that he's organized this same thing in all five other ghettos too. With all the buzz being generated by this, he's gonna have a few thousand fresh recruits tomorrow willing to sign on to anything that keeps this train rolling. I can't fucking wait."

And that was the last thing Tetsuo remembered from last night. Afterwards, a few more girls had showed up with more booze, and the night had descended into debauchery, a few drunken renditions of the Japanese national anthem, and an informal honors ceremony for the Heirs.

Now, with their hangovers mostly gone and the patriotic fervor lowered to a heated simmer, the hundreds of raw recruits were waiting in the spot they'd been told to report to, anticipating the address from the man who had brought all of this about.

The quietly murmering crown immediately fell to silence as there was the noise whir of a gas generator being activated in a neighboring room, before a projector on the ceiling of the auditorium turned on and shone a white square of light onto the curtain set up along the stage.

Once the projector was on, the hooded figure, Mr. Maroon, descended the stairs to the front row where the original Heirs were all seated in places of honor.

Mr. Maroon looked down at his watch, and seemed to be mentally counting down in his head. At an unseen cue from the device, he looked up at the screen.

With no fanfare at all, the lights dimmed and the screen changed to show a close-up view of a hooded individual in a black mask sitting at an oak desk. A similarly-clad figure stood at his left shoulder, but her head was offscreen.

"Good evening, my fellow patriots," began the seated figure, his visage contrasted with the Japanese flag hanging in the background, "I am Zero. As many of you have no doubt heard, I am the one who organized last night's operations. Under my direction and with my supplies and support, the cells I have allied with in your ghettos have risen up and ousted the Purist occupiers."

A few isolated cheers went out from the less disciplined recruits, only to be swiftly silenced by glowers from the trained fighters.

"Now, despite my actions, some of your will still harbor doubts against me. To those among you, there is little I can offer you. For reasons of security, all I can say is that I was once involved in government and that I have been planning for this day since the Britannian invaders first came to our shores."

Several uneasy glances were exchanged by the more paranoid recruits.

"For similar reasons, my many agents both within and without the ghettos must remain nameless and faceless. Since the invasion, our sole ally has been secrecy. It is our greatest weapon and most stalwart shield, and we will not abandon even if it costs us recruits."

At the prearranged cue, the camera panned back to reveal a stern yet alluring redheaded girl at Zero's left shoulder, standing at a stiff attention. Her mask was clasped tightly and held over her heart by her left hand, and she stared off into the middle distance expressionlessly.

"So that I do not alienate the less trusting among you, I extend the olive branch of my right hand, Kallen Kozuki. Some of you from Shinjuku may recognize young miss Kozuki. I recruited her from there when I saw her drive and competency. As one of you, she will serve as my liaison to you. The respective agents I have assigned to your cells will serve as your means of contacting her with questions or concerns.

The camera panned back in to focus on Zero once more. "Now, it is time to address my intentions towards your various cells. Through them I arranged for your liberation, but my ambitions do not end there. I intend to turn the scattered, weak, and divided cells of the Japanese fighting spirit into a singular, united entity that will once and for all return our homeland to our control."

Excited murmers dotted up around the crowd. This was unprecedented. Aside from perhaps the JLF, no cell realistically thought about doing something as grand as actually _ousting_ Britannia. Yet for some reason, this Zero spoke like it wasn't just possible, but practically inevitable under his leadership.

"Some among you saw my broadcast early this morning to the Britannians where I executed an entire noble family, including their son. Some will call this evidence of my lack of morals. Instead, I ask you to see it as proof of my resolve. Though it pains me deeply, there is no such thing as a perfect revolution. Innocent blood will, _must_ be shed to pave the way for progress. Anyone who tells you otherwise either has their head in the clouds, or a collar around your neck."

Despite his expressionless mask, those watching got the impression that Zero was frowning. "That said, I do not endavour to spill innocent blood without cause. That execution was a necessary evil. With the deaths of three Britannians, I have freed the ghettos from Britannian retribution. You will notice that you were not bombed during the night. My threat was why. Do not take my reluctance to harm the innocent as weakness, however. I fully intend to fulfill my threat should the Britannians not comply."

Had this been before the invasion, none in the room would have entertained someone who talked so frankly of murder. But after years and years of slow, systematic cruelty on the part of the Purists, the Japanese were done. They just wanted it to end, and few cared anymore what they had to shed to achieve that. Blood. Honor. Morals. Liberty.

The end now justified _any_ means in their eyes. Putty in Lelouch's hands, really.

"My revolution _will_ be bloody. My revolution _will_ be cruel. Those greedy, cowardly fossils that call themselves Kyoto and claim to be the Japanese government _will_ oppose me from outdated senses of what they think Japan is. Their lapdogs, the useless and faded JLF will likely even raise arms against me and I _will_ beat them back into their nostalgic little burrows."

This was shakier ground with the Japanese. Many people in the room _did_ think of Kyoto as the closest thing they still had to a government, and the JLF the closest to their army.

"Do you know why they will fight me? And why I will win? Because I have accomplished more in the last twenty-four hours than they have in the last six _years_. While they sneered at the ghettos from behind their tea cups in their mansions, occasionally tossing you pacifying table scraps of handguns and grenades, _I_ was drawing the plan that will see us liberated. While the JLF saluted their flags and lorded over the smaller resistance groups, _I_ was training your resistance fighters in Knightmare combat so that they may fight for your freedom!"

At the demagogue's inflammatory words, a change of mood overcame the crowds. The boiling fury at Britannia that had exploded on the streets last night began finding a new target to share. Six years of waiting for the promised and ever-close revolution turned to bitter venom in their hearts. Once dubious faces darkened with newfound anger.

"The reign of sadists and fools is over! _I_ am Zero, and _I_ will give the Japanese people the revolution they deserve! I will see the Britannian army ousted from our land! I will see Kyoto made accountable for their failure, and the JLF for being their blind tools!"

He raised his fist in the air with the declarations and in six ghettos the crowd almost unanimously joined him and cheered.

"I will not see Japan rebuilt—I will see Japan _reborn_ from the fires of war! A better Japan! A new Japan! A Japan where our children will never have to fear for their mothers every time they go out to scavenge food! A Japan where there will be order and stability and peace!"

The roar from the crowd Tetsuo around was nearly deafening, but he didn't notice since he was unconsciously screaming right alongside them. He and the others went silent as Zero spoke once more, this time steady and sober.

"This new Japan is possible. I can bring it about in less than four months. There is just one thing I require to achieve it..."

With bated breaths, Tetsuo and his compatriots stared up at the figure looming above them like the vengeful face of God. He spoke with a slow deliberation, and as he did so his masked gaze seemed to penetrate every single member of the crowd to their very cores, as if each one of them were the sole object of his attention and he were addressing them directly. Tetsuo swallowed at the weight of his focus.

"Your absolute, _unquestioning_ loyalty."

* * *

Lelouch grinned behind his mask like the cat who had just convinced the canary to swear lifelong allegiance to him. Honestly, he sometimes wondered why he even bothered with his Geass when most times he could just _convince_ people to do what he wanted. Admittedly though, this _was_ a lot more work.

The modified teleprompter in front of him displayed live feeds from each of the six meetings he was addressing. Thus far, only one man had left to the obvious ire of those around him. The rest stayed.

Oration had always fascinated him, how with the right words and gestures he could make men die for his cause. Like a conductor with a baton, he'd stoked the flames of the Japanese's anger, given them a dream of the future, and told them that the only obstacle between the two was their inhibitions. Honestly, it was Fulcrum's trademark tactic, a terribly subtle form of brainwashing. Just as he'd done with Kallen, he would deliberately shape their perceptions and drive them into unspeakable acts. The moment they killed their first Britannians at his command, they would be his.

Sure, in their current state they would follow his orders so long as they were in rough accordance with his promises, but they would eventually turn against him should he stray too far from his image. Once he had them locked in, like he did with Sayoko's Shadows, it wouldn't matter what he ordered them to do. Questioning him would mean questioning themselves, and fear of knowing oneself too well can be a powerful motivator.

Especially once you've killed for the man you're questioning.

* * *

"I take your remaining as assent to my terms. Let it be known that I ask for your obedience not from a desire for power, but simply because it is but one of many tools I need to bring about the new Japan. Those of you who remain, you will incorporated into your ghetto's cells and trained for combat. But let it be known that the cells you know, are no more. The Matsumoto ghetto's Heirs of Nobunaga are no more. The Fukuoka Fighters are no more. You are now the six divisions of a single new army."

The Japanese flag hanging behind Zero fell to the floor and out of sight, and in its place hung a new emblem. It resembled a black kite shield trimmed with silver, and its center bore a golden cross.

"As of this day, you are soldiers of the Black Knights!"


	8. Chapter 8: Operation Caligula

**mysticinfluencer97: Yeah, the spymaster thing was a typo. He was originally named Kingsley, but I didn't want to draw confusion between him and the Akito character, so I decided to rename him, but I forgot to change all instances of it. Thanks for catching that.**

 **DarthMaine: A few. In all honesty, I'm good at writing, but not particularly imaginative. Whenever I see a good idea/quote/character/etc that I feel would mesh well with one of my stories, I usually adapt and insert them somehow. That's how you end up with Meld from X-COM, cybernetics from Shadowrun, zealots from Hellsing, a rewritten intro from Leviathan, and some more I can't remember off the top of my head. Even his master plan I've adapted from the villain's plan in a pre-written tabletop game campaign I was reading. (Side note, massive internet cookies to anyone who can guess where it's from. Hint: Pathfinder).**

 **Master of Dragons God: As terrible as that comparison would normally sound, in hindsight I can see the parallels. Lelouch is rising to power using the same populist emotional manipulation as certain tyrants like Hitler or Caesar. He's doing that mainly because of how effective it is.**

 **soggy noodle: I'm kind of re-working the OSI from the standard intelligence service to the Emperor's secret Inquisition. Your average Britannian doesn't even know the OSI exists. They're like the NSA during the 50's. Thus, they really only set themselves up directly when Charles orders them to.**

 **Generatedname: Good to know I've struck a good balance. I'm always struggling to keep Lelouch likeable while still being an utterly monstrous bastard, so I appreciate the knowledge that I'm doing well so far.**

 **the reaper's brawler: I haven't been bringing it across recently, but Lelouch's dream is nearly identical to his in canon. He wants to establish a peaceful world for Nunnally. He just has a much better plan from the outset to realistically accomplish that.**

 **OBSERVER01: Unfortunately, while religious zealots and later certain French mercenaries mesh well with the Code Geass world, Crimson Fuckers and nazi vampires don't (fucking fantastic as that would be).**

 **sakura89luis: The first book in the Leviathan trilogy. I was reading the opening chapter, and all I could think of was Code Geass, so I rewrote it to fit this fic and went from there.**

 **Dany le fou: Thanks for pointing out those mistakes. Shit like that really helps whenever I miss something. I actually considered doing some version of the 'I love war' speech, but I couldn't find a way to make it fit. I actually didn't know that about Anderson and Charles, but that's fucking hilarious. I've actually made a note to have a joke at some point about Anderson and Charles sounding identical.**

 **Now, on with the show!**

Chapter 8: Operation Caligula

This was what he'd been waiting for.

Robert Vanderbilt grinned victoriously as he boarded a private plane bound for Area 11. Six years had passed since his master's disappearance, and finally he had an excuse to establish himself in the Area where it had happened.

Not that it had been easy to uncover that particular piece of information. Wherever his master had built the Geass Directorate black site, he'd been so thorough that even when the Emperor authorized him to launch a full investigation into his brother's disappearance, he was unable to find anything more than that it had been in Japan. Not that he'd reported that, of course. It seemed his immortal master's caution had backfired, as his loyal servants could not locate him for a rescue.

Now, however, he could take his most loyal and tear the Area apart until he found him. Then, he was going to kill everyone involved with the travesty.

Some would call him a fanatic. He preferred the term 'loyal'. It was just the simple fact that if there was anything on this world that could be called a god, his master was it. Immortal, unchanging, and able to bestow limitless power to his faithful.

He hadn't received the Gift yet, but he'd been _very_ close. His last correspondence with his master indicated as much. Then he'd gone silent for six years. The sole clue had been that the universal communication codes were scrambled, which was automatic protocol in the event of a base intrusion. Since they were never reestablished, it was likely that the site had fallen into the hands of a third party—and his master's immortality meant that he was almost certainly a prisoner.

Personally, he suspected the group called the JLF. They had the manpower to take on the base, and the fact that they were still at large meant they had some sort of secret base that was still undetected thus far. Not to mention they were the only other military outfit operating in the Area at the time of the disappearance.

Whether it was them or not was irrelevant though. He would find the culprits and see them held accountable.

* * *

As the broadcast went dead and the Shadow running the camera gave him a thumbs up, Lelouch groaned in exhaustion and sunk into his chair. He lowered his hood and after a moment of fumbling managed to undo his mask.

"You did very well Kallen," he said, turning to regard his subordinate.

Her face reddened slightly in that way Lelouch had been hoping for. "I didn't do anything," she protested meekly.

"And you won't be expected to, at least not until you've gotten a handle on the ropes. You stayed strong and stern on camera, which is all that will be required of you for the moment, administration-wise at least. Eventually I'll have you as the face of the Black Knights, but you'll have months to learn that."

"I..." Kallen stammered, before Lelouch took pity on her.

"Relax. Kewell and I will teach you. It's not that hard. You're mainly a figurehead, just a real face for the rank-and-file to latch on to. Someone they know and trust."

Kallen looked immensely relieved, and nodded gratefully. "Thank god."

Chuckling, Lelouch stood from the desk and stretched his back out. Maintaining his speech posture for too long always gave him a crick in his spine. "Well, I've got one last errand to handle, then I'm heading home for the day."

"Oh," said Kallen quietly, unable to hide the disappointment on her face.

Lelouch examined her for a moment, before sighing. This would be a necessary conversation. "Kallen, you're aware that you are not the only woman who shares my affections, yes?"

She dipped her head weakly in affirmation, but did not speak.

"If we are to continue this relationship, and I am to keep my promise to you, I feel full disclosure on this matter would be best. Currently, I am involved with three other women. All are aware of the others, and all consent to it. If you assent to that, you may choose your level of involvement with them."

Kallen blinked. "My involvement with them?" she asked, unsure as to his meaning.

"Two of them experiment with one another, as well as with me. If you like, you can either join them or be with me exclusively or not at all."

There was a moment of silence as Kallen considered this, her face constantly shifting with different emotions. "Who are they?" she asked finally.

"Sayoko, Mao, and Milly Ashford, Reuben's granddaughter. Milly and Sayoko are the more open two. Mao prefers exclusivity."

Silence fell once more as Kallen processed the information. "Can I think on this?"

"Of course," Lelouch replied. His gloved hand slowly rose to cup her cheek. She didn't turn away, which he took as proof that his conversion had been successful. "Take as much time as you need. Just know that no matter what your decision, it won't change a thing about my feelings for you."

He decided to press his luck and leaned in for a gentle kiss. She accepted it, but did not reciprocate. That wouldn't do. His tongue probed her lips, and after a momentary waver it was granted admission. Slowly, she melted into his arms. He led her back over to the desk where he took a seat in the chair and lifted her up to straddle his lap, never once breaking contact with her lips. Utilizing all of the skills he'd learned from bringing Milly, Sayoko, and Mao to their knees, he brought Kallen into the fold as well.

Finally they broke apart, red-faced and panting heavily. Lelouch ruthlessly followed up by taking advantage of the weaknesses he'd learned from their earlier intercourse, burying his lips in the crook of her neck. She mewled like a kitten, unable to help herself as his teeth nibbled her erogenous zone.

"I really do have to go," Lelouch said eventually, and Kallen slumped in both exhaustion and disappointment. "Take as much time as you need to think this over. Just please, try to keep an open mind."

With that he lifted the redhead from his waist and stood. She managed to stay on her feet, but she was clearly still in a daze. Lelouch straightened his coat and planted one last, delicate kiss on her before turning to leave.

"Do you love me?" Kallen asked suddenly.

Lelouch halted in his tracks and looked back to see her face. "Pardon?"

"You swore never to lie to me. Do you love me?"

He thought about it for a long second. An off-the-cuff answer would not do here.

"Yes," he said, "I do."

* * *

"Lloyd."

What he really needed to do was retweak the Blaze Luminous system so that its power took precedence over offensive systems. At the moment, the Maser Vibration Swords were staying powered even after the Blaze Luminous failed. It should be the opposite end around. Defense should have higher priority than offense.

"Lloyd."

But how to accomplish that? The current electrical setup was unfortunately hardwired in. Even a minor alteration would require him to gut and completely rewire the frame, which he wasn't sure he was willing to do to his baby. Although.. it would give him the opportunity to fix all of the minor electrical issues in one go. Perhaps it would balance out. Not to mention, a fresh take on the wiring with his new experience would probably add at least a few percent to the efficiency rating.

"Lloyd!"

"Cecile!" he shouted, turning from his workstation to find his assistant. He started when he found her right next to him. "There you are. Get me a plasma cutter and some wiring. I'm going to redo the Lancelot's electrical system."

The purple-haired assistant finally snapped and slammed the thick binder she'd been holding into the side of his head. "Have you been listening to a word I said?" she shouted at her now prone boss.

"No," he admitted shamelessly. "Was it important?"

Cecile breathed in and out, calling on the techniques her therapist had taught her after her first psychotic break. "Lloyd," she said eventually, her voice strained, "I told you yesterday that the Vicereine has elected to pay us a visit. I told you quite clearly that she would be arriving today to inquire about the Lancelot. I said in no uncertain terms that you needed to be ready for it. She will be here in thirty minutes, and you're in a dressing gown and bunny slippers."

The Earl of Pudding looked down at his feet and gazed longfully at the two adorable bunnies staring back. Truly, they were the only ones that truly understood him.

"Then let the Vicereine visit. That's a perk of being an indispensable man like myself, Cecile—I don't have to keep up appearances, even with royalty."

His assistant growled. "That's not how it works, Lloyd! You can't just act like you don't care when royals visit!"

"Please," Lloyd drawled, "Prince Schneizel's seen the combat data we're projecting. He's invested too much in the project to let his sister do anything to us."

"Yes. He's invested _a lot_ in us, and we've still not been able to find a pilot that can even _move_ the frame thanks to that control scheme of yours."

Lloyd's gaze sharpened slightly. "The Lancelot is the highest-performance Knightmare ever produced. It has to be operated a specific way, or all that extra efficiency will be wasted. It's not _my_ fault that your average meathead soldier doesn't have that level of coordination."

"Prince Schneizel may not see it that way. He commissioned you to make the next generation Knightmare. That includes making it _operable._ If you pick a fight with the Vicereine on top of that..."

"Fine!" Lloyd cried in exasperation, snapping up from his desk and storming off towards his quarters. "I'll put a bloody suit on! Make yourself useful and brew some tea or something."

* * *

Twenty minutes later a reluctantly scrubbed and polished Lloyd was sitting uncomfortably at what was technically his desk in the office he'd never actually used. He much preferred the workstation he had set up on the shop floor.

"So, how can I help you, Your Highness?" he inquired through gritted teeth as a tense Cecile poured tea for the pair. A pair of burly soldiers with white and red armbands flanked the doorway.

The Vicereine smiled like a viper. "Oh I thought I'd just drop by for a friendly little chat. My dear brother mentioned that he had this little project operating in my Area a few months ago, but I didn't pay it much mind. In light of... recent events, however, I'm obliged to consider all possible assets within my purview."

"Of course," Lloyd replied, hiding a smile in his tea. "Unfortunately, Your Highness, I'm forced to remind you that as a special project directly commissioned by Minister Schneizel himself, we are actually _not_ under your purview."

Carine's smile disappeared like an Eleven in a Purist prison. Her expression turned hostile as her polite facade faded away in the face of her frustration. "Listen to me very closely. I have had too many things go wrong in the last twenty-four hours. If you think I'm going to sit here and let some goddamn pissant of an scientist operating in _my_ Area refuse me what I need, you're obviously unfamiliar with my reputation."

At their Mistress' words, the two Purist guards stepped forward menacingly. They reached to their hips, where stun batons were holstered in addition to machine pistols. Cecile squeaked in fright and backed away to the opposite end of the room. Lloyd simply raised an eyebrow.

"Is this _truly_ necessary, Your Highness? First, you'll be explaining any marks on me or my assistant to Schneizel. I doubt that would be pleasant. Second, I see no reason we can't come to a... mutually beneficial arrangement."

Carine raised a hand and the Purists instantly halted. "I'm listening," she said cautiously.

The Earl of Pudding smirked. "You need the Lancelot. _I_ need a devicer and additional funding. Providing me with both would benefit you."

"What _kind_ of devicer?" asked Carine slowly. The funding was no issue for her. Area 11 had one of the most bloated budgets in Britannia, all to ensure that the Sakuradite kept flowing with no hiccups. A devicer could be trickier. Most of the Knights under her command had died during last night's uprising.

"Your _best_ ," Lloyd specified in no uncertain terms. "Otherwise, you might as well use the Lancelot as a ballroom decoration."

The Vicereine contemplated this briefly. "I'll have General Nu draw up some candidates. In the meanwhile, I'm going to write you a blank check. I don't care what it costs, but I expect that machine to be on Tokyo Base and operational in three days. Fail me, and I will dedicate the remainder of my tenure as Vicereine to destroying you and everything you love."

"Good to see we're on the same wavelength, Your Highness."

Lloyd smiled as Carine stood and removed a checkbook from her pocket, tearing one off and shoving it before him. Without a single glance more, she spun on her heel and marched out of the office with her two bodyguard dogging her heels.

The second the door clicked shut, Cecile whirled on Lloyd. "What in God's name was that!" she shrieked. "You nearly got us killed!"

" _Nearly_ ," Lloyd pointed out cheekily, before his face turned more calculating. "Relax, Cecile. Those thugs were never going to lay a finger on us. We belong to Schneizel. All I did was secure us the funding we need to make the Lancelot _perfect_. And, we now have our pick of every Knight in the Area. A fair profit for one meeting, I should think."

"You're mad," was all Cecile could say, still in shock.

"Yes," Lloyd agreed as he stripped down to his undershirt, "but I'm also your boss. Now get me a damn plasma cutter."

* * *

Kaguya's head thumped against her desk as she read the latest report from her informants. This Zero's speech... it was nothing less than a declaration of war on both Britannia and Kyoto. She _had_ to reach out to him before it was too late.

Nonetheless, she couldn't help but be drawn in by the speech her agent had managed to record. It had been _intoxicating_. The confidence, the poise. It was brilliant.

A large portion of her agents had gone dark immediately following the address. She could only think that they'd been swayed by it. Not that she could really blame them either. If her position in Kyoto wasn't something she could leverage, she'd be offering her services to a recruiter this very moment.

The Black Knights, they were now called. Fitting for enemies of Britannia.

Rubbing her temples, she perused another report. The Guren MK-II was being shipped in two days from their allies in the Chinese Federation. Its creator was apparently coming along with it to ensure it was well-maintained. That made arranging for Zero to snatch it somewhat more difficult, since they'd also have to kidnap her if they wanted anyone who understood the advanced machine.

Two days to get a meeting with Zero. She could only hope her agents would be able to convey the urgency of her request.

In the meantime, she had to compile a report of her own on Zero for the emergency meeting tonight, the second in a row since Zero's uprising. If she didn't have something satisfactory, there was a significant risk that they'd catch on to her intentions, and all would be lost.

She glared at a map of Britannia-occupied Japan, trying to put herself in the demagogue's shoes. What target would he select? The Britannians had three primary hard points now that the Purist bases were demolished. The naval base in the North, the Sakuradite mines, and Tokyo itself. The naval base made the most sense, in her opinion. The Sakuradite mines were an enticing target, but they were a fortress in their own right. Tokyo was the center of the occupation, but technically of little strategic import and heavily defended.

The naval base, however, was isolated and on the opposite side of the country. Its purpose was as a deterrant against the Chinese to keep them away from the island. Zero had promised a free Japan inside four months. If he took out the base, the Chinese would be able to launch an invasion and drive Britannia out, just like Kyoto had been trying to arrange.

But that was ultimately foolhardy, and Zero was no fool. Rule under the Chinese would just be trading one tyrant for several tyrants. Not that Kyoto cared anymore.

She growled in frustration. If you didn't plan on bringing in the Chinese, there was little value in attacking the base, but at the same time it was the only logical and viable target.

Then again... the Purist bases hadn't seemed logical or viable targets, and Zero had brought six of them down in a single night. Perhaps she shouldn't underestimate him.

Regardless, she knew what to put in her report.

Her gaze very pointedly avoided turning to the envelope on the corner of her desk, hovering on the edge of falling into the waistbasket. A letter from darling Suzaku. Why he was always reluctant to simply call or video chat was beyond her. Something about Bushido, she imagined.

With a reluctant sigh, she popped the seal off with her fingernail and examined the neat kanji. Formal greeting, inquiry of health, yadda yadda, excited for wedding, blah blah, 'upstart Zero', snore. Of course he'd formed a personal grudge against Zero. It was just like him to construe the most effective act of insurgency since the invasion as an attack on his character.

She huffed and crumpled the letter without reading the rest of it. He'd see soon, just like Todoh and Kirihara and everyone else letting the memories of old Japan blind them to the future. _Zero's_ future.

* * *

"You know why I wanted to talk to you," Lelouch said pointedly to a pouting Mao in her private dormitory. The purple-haired girl didn't get along very well with the other Irregulars, so she was housed in a separate room. It was painted a dark purple and cutely decorated like a little girl's, even if its occupant was far from little these days.

At seeing that she wouldn't respond, Lelouch frowned. "You used your Geass on Kallen. I explicitly forbade that. If you read the minds of your allies, it sows resentment and distrust. I'm disappointed in you, Mao."

"You slept with her," accused Mao bitterly.

"I did," admitted Lelouch. "As is my right. I'm fine with... indulging you Mao, but I told you from the start how this relationship would work. Jealousy is not permissible."

Mao's eyes turned hurt, and Lelouch knew that soothing feelings would go further than discipline here. What the girl needed was assurance. "Come here," he instructed, perching himself on the edge of the bed and patting his lap. Like an enthusiastic kitten, Mao scrambled onto the bed and laid her head down between his legs—closing her eyes in bliss as he began softly stroking her hair like he often did with Nunnally when she was upset.

He briefly hummed a soft lullaby his mother used to sing to him. "I love you Mao, and you will always hold a place in my heart. Nothing will ever change that. It is very important for you to understand this."

The mind-reader nodded weakly, eyes still closed as she basked in her big brother's affection. "But I'm a loving man, Mao. I love you, and Nunnally, and Milly, and Sayoko, and Kallen, and Jeremiah, and Kewell, and Asplund, and Reuben, and the Irregulars. You are all my family. If you were in their shoes, would you want me to just love a single person?"

"No," she admitted reluctantly. "But Big Brother, I just... I don't want to lose you."

"I'll always be there for you, Mao. Everything I fight for, it's for you and everyone else I love. I wake up every morning wondering how to make the world a better place for you. I will kill and lead and lie and fight for that cause. No matter what. Understand?"

"Yes, Big Brother."

"Good," said Lelouch as he delicately lifted her up and stood. She grabbed his sleeve and looked mournfully towards the bed, but he shook his head. "Not today. Jealousy or no, you still disobeyed me. I have to punish you."

She pouted piteously, and he briefly wavered. With a sigh, he pulled her in for a soft kiss. "That's all you're getting until tomorrow. We'll see how sorry you are and reevaluate then."

* * *

As Lelouch turned to depart, he missed Mao's eyes sharpen.

 _Kallen. Whore. Thief. Like that bitch Nunnally. Always stealing Big Brother._

She'd seen what that redheaded slut had done when she read her. She'd known Big Brother less than two months, and she was already making demands of him. She didn't deserve Big Brother. _Nobody_ deserved Big Brother.

Nobody but her.

* * *

Tetsuo and the other three-hundred-some recruits stood at a crude parade formation in the battered and smoldering remnants of the former Matsumoto Purist Base. Kaito, leader of the Heirs of Nobunaga (although he supposed they were technically the Third Division of the Black Knights now), had brought him and all the willing recruits here after Zero's speech.

Nobody spoke. Nobody fidgeted. They were all far too tense as they waited in anticipation.

Suddenly, there was the low rumble of engines—an unusual sound in the ghettos ever since the invasion. Tetsuo turned and his eyes widened.

A convoy of enormous, unmarked cargo trucks roared through the exterior entrance to the bases and came to a stop with the hissing of hydraulic brakes. They maneuvered briefly into a certain arrangement before halting again.

Then, with a whir of machinery, stabilizing pistons emerged from the side and pressed into the ground. Shortly afterwards the sides of the trailers ballooned outwards to form enormous inner compartments.

Tetsuo could only look on in shock. He'd seen this kind of equipment before. It was a goddamn mobile army base.

From the lead cab, a door opened and a figure emerged. The wary Japanese were immediately put on guard by his non-Japanese features. He was a tall, caucasian man dressed in a rugged army uniform of no distinct nation. He had long, reddish-brown hair tied in a tight braid that trailed down his back and one of his green eyes was hidden behind an eyepatch. A lit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, its smoke drifting up and past his Australian slouch hat.

" _Bonjour,_ " he said after a long moment, a thick French accent permeating his adequate Japanese. He seemed to wait for a response, before rolling his one visible eye. " _Je m'appelle_ Pip Bernadotte, at your service. I am a... how you say... mercenary. Your boss' friends in ze E.U sent me and my company along to help you get up to speed."

The tension left the Japanese. Mr. Maroon suddenly appeared next to the Frenchman, causing both him and everyone else to jump. "Welcome to Japan, Mr. Bernadotte. I'd like to thank you and your company for volunteering for this assignment."

" _Merde!_ " Pip swore. "Make some fucking noise when you move. But it is no problem. Ze Britannians have invaded my country too many times. Zis, I would have done for free."

The mercenary then turned back to Tetsuo and the other recruits. Kaito and the former Heirs were also looking on, but this speech didn't seem directed at them. "Right. You lot! My men and I have been instructed to train you in both infantry and Knightmare combat."

He indicated over to where several more mercenaries were setting up tables. "Over zere, my men will take down your information and get you registered as official soldiers of ze Black Knights. Zey'll give you a uniform. Lose it, and I'll have your ass for a hood ornament, understand?"

With a semblance of pre-war civility, Tetsuo and the others filed over to the tables. It was an efficient process. They took down names, dates of birth, blood type, medical history, next of kin, education level, relevant skills, the list went on. He was surprised to find that a fair number of people in his ghetto apparently had useful skills. Doctors, engineers, policemen, I.T specialists. Sometimes he forgot that not all of Japan died with the invasion. His people used to have careers and dreams.

When he was done getting registered, the mercenary asked his approximate sizes and handed him a sealed duffel bag. He eagerly took it to the changing area and opened it up. Inside was a uniform similar to that of Mr. Maroon. Dark boots, black socks, black army pants, black gloves, and a sleek black military jacket with a hood.

The only difference was that instead of a solid white mask, there was a black and silver bandanna. He contemplated it briefly, before tying it around his face in a mask like many resistance groups did.

He checked himself out in the mirror and could only stare back in shock. He looked... like a resistance fighter. The perfect combination of soldier and vigilante.

Grinning madly, he stepped from the room and saw that his fellows were dressed identically to him now. One of the French mercenaries waved him onwards to the largest trailer. He stepped inside and his eyes bulged. Knightmare simulators—at least a dozen—lined the walls.

"We will be testing your Knightmare aptitude," explained the attending merc. "Because we've only got a month to train you, we can't get everyone ready to use a Sutherland. So zis is how it's going to work: seventy-five percent or above and you get a Sutherland like your resistance groups. Fifty percent through seventy-four, you get a Tandem. Below that, you're infantry."

"A Tandem, sir?" asked one of the men cautiously.

The mercenary smirked and pulled down a cord from the ceiling to reveal a diagram of... the _ugliest_ Knightmare Tetsuo had even seen. It resembled a bulky vertical cylinder on four stout legs, with two asymmetrical arms jutting out the side of the cylinder's upper half. No, not arms. Directly mounted weapons of some sort.

"Zis, men, is ze Tandem. A Knightmare specifically designed for lightly-trained guerrilla units to kill Britannian Knights with. Unless you're starting out an ace, you're not going to get ze coordination to effectively pilot a Sutherland in combat in just a month. Zus, zis frame cuts ze effort in half by using a dual-operator design. Ze lower operator actually drives ze machine to evade and maneuver, while ze upper operator mans ze weapons. It's lightly armored, but more agile zan a Sutherland so you'll be able to stay at range where you have ze advantage with your rotary autocannon."

"And if they do close the distance?" another man inquired worriedly.

"Zat's where zis comes in," the mercenary elaborated, pointing to the weapon that formed the frame's left arm. "A combination belt-fed shotgun and bolo launcher. Ze bolos will entangle a Sutherland's legs, and if zat doesn't cripple it, ze attached grenades zat form ze weights certainly will. If you run out, ze shotgun will shred pretty much anything at close range."

Tetsuo's eyes narrowed as he reexamined the diagram, slowly piecing together its usefulness and intention. Finally it clicked together. Essentially, it was to Knightmares what the AK-47 was to firearms. Rugged, dependable, easily maintained, and easy to operate while still packing a brutal punch.

Zero really had planned ahead if he'd arranged for these to be provided for his soldiers.

The explanation complete, he and his fellows were placed in the training simulators and the test program was loaded.

Thirty minutes later, he blinked at the readout the screen displayed.

"Aᴘᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ—Dʀɪᴠɪɴɢ: 56%. Aᴘᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ—Wᴇᴀᴘᴏɴs: 68%. Cᴜᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ: 62% Pʀᴏꜰɪᴄɪᴇɴᴄʏ. Assɪɢɴᴍᴇɴᴛ: Tᴀɴᴅᴇᴍ Gᴜɴɴᴇʀ **."**

He blinked once more, and looked at the screen again. Sixty-two percent? He was going to operate a Knightmare! It was a Tandem, sure, but after that mercenary's explanation he was eager to get inside one of the machines just to see what kind of damage he could do.

Enthusiastically, he popped the simulator open and stepped out. "Congratulations," said the Frenchman pleasantly. "Only a third of you qualified for Knightmares, and just one for a Sutherland, but with no training zat's something. Infantry, out ze right door. Pilots, out ze left, and remember you assignments! Step to it!

Tetsuo marched out of the trailer with his four fellow pilots. Five pilots in fifteen, huh? And only one qualified for a Sutherland? He did the mental math. That meant just twenty Sutherland pilots from his entire ghetto. Although... when combined with the pre-trained resistance groups it was probably at least double that. More than the number of frames stolen from the Purists.

The realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

Zero had _more_ Sutherlands. That's why he was doing assignment based on ability rather than supplies. And it also meant that he had _a lot_ of those Tandems, if he was equipping four in fifteen soldiers with them.

From there, the day faded into a blur of logistics and barracks tents and cot assignments. As he fell asleep in his bunk—the most comfortable bed he'd had since he was a boy—he could only think of one thing.

'Zero... is going to _change_ things, and _I'm_ going to help him do it.'

* * *

A forlorn Mao trudged through the facility's halls, going to her scheduled reading. She wanted to blow it off and spend the rest of the day reliving her Big Brother memories, but he was already mad at her and she didn't want to make it worse.

The Warden didn't so much as glance at her twice as she neared the interrogation room, simply pressing the button to unlock the door.

Seated at the metal table was a pathetic-looking individual. He was dressed in sweat-soaked pajamas, and his once well-maintained coif of blonde hair looked on the verge of falling out.

Not even bothering with formalities, she turned to the one-way mirror. "Warden," she instructed simply. From the other side of the glass, the Warden's Geass lit up and immobilized Diethard Ried in wide-eyed shock.

This made it much easier for Mao to plant herself in front of the journalist and peruse his mind to her heart's content.

The more she did this, the more she learned to hate people. They were dirty, vile, _disgusting_. Only Big Brother was pure. Only Big Brother had helped her from nothing but kindness. Only Big Brother truly loved her.

It was for him that she did everything. The only thing holding her back from tearing apart the minds of every single one of those whores circling her Big Brother was the knowledge of how angry and disappointed that would make him. She'd read that redheaded bint's mind for just a second and she was denied his touch the rest of the day, which was torture in itself.

Fortunately, he didn't mind her being... _rough_ on the prisoners, so long as she got the information.

She was ready to apply the last bit of pressure and snap this man's tenuous grip on reality, but a better idea struck her. Big Brother was angry at her. Maybe... a gift would get her back in his good graces. This man had certain skills, and she'd been in his mind long enough to know which wires to cross if she wanted to make him loyal to Big Brother.

You see, Mao liked to think of herself as an electrician of the human soul.

In a normal person's mind, all the fuse-boxes of personality were lined up neatly side by side. All you had to do was open the boxes… and then start cross-wiring. You hot-wired a formative memory to an unrelated trauma by using wires from two other fuse-boxes—those of say an implanted thought and uninterested memory of Zero, let us say.

At some point you tested one of your fabulous wiring jobs just to make sure everything was working correctly and then you laid low and sent a charge through the circuits every once in awhile to keep things interesting. To keep things hot.

But mostly you just laid low until everything was done… and then you turned on the juice.

All the juice.

All at once.

* * *

The Kyoto meeting was not going well for Kaguya. She'd known that the news of Zero's speech would cause a stir, but this was nothing short of panic.

"We have to send the JLF in! This Zero is raising an army against us as we speak!" shouted a hysteric Munakata.

Hidenobu slammed his fist on the table. "Are you mad? What would the JLF do? Slaughter the training camps containing _our own_ citizens? That would turn the people against us irrevocably!"

"Please," said Taizo peaceably, "calm yourselves gentlemen. I believe we are blowing this Zero situation far out of proportion. His speech makes it clear—he's a populist, inflaming anger and drawing on years of bitterness. It is the brightest flame that burns out quickest. Let us simply allow this candle to snuff itself."

"And how precisely is thing 'candle' going to be snuffed out? He has half the Japanese population in his army now!" Munakata pointed out sharply.

Taizo took a deliberate sip of his tea. "In addition to being a populist, this Zero is arrogant and has overpromised. Liberation from Britannia will not happen in four months. But his pride and obligations will force him into a risky action against the Britannians that will see him eliminated. Kaguya, did you compile a list of targets as asked?"

"I did," Kayuga said, reaching out for her bodyguard to hand her the file. "According to the analysis by my agents, Zero's only viable target within his means is the Marianne vi Britannia Naval Facility. Its the softest target in the Occupation, and if its taken out he could negotiate with the Chinese for military aid. That would allow him to fulfill his promise of four months."

Her mentor waved his hand commandingly and Kaguya handed the file over, silently gritting her teeth at his condescension. "I see," he said eventually. "With his current forces, what are the odds of him successfully neutralizing the base?"

"At its current garrison? Almost certainly. If it's reinforced? Fifty-fifty."

"So the question is..." began Munakata, "do we permit him to take out the base, or do we tip off Carine to ensure he is removed from the field?"

Brows furrowed around the low table. The destruction of the base _would_ be a significant blow against the Occupation, but could they permit Zero to seize it?

"We should give Carine a helping hand," Kaguya said primly, lying through her teeth. "If this Zero is permitted one victory, who knows how much momentum he will build?"

"A fair point," acknowledged Taizo in the tone of a parent praising a child's simple deduction. His fading eyes scanned the faces around the room. "All in favor of informing the Vicereine of Zero's anticipated attack on the MvB Naval Base?"

The vote was unanimous.

"Wonderful. Now, if there—"

He was cut off by a sound outside the remote estate on the outskirts of Kyoto. The faint sound of helicopter blades.

No Japanese used such a method of transportation, which only meant...

"Britannians!" barked one of Kaguya's bodyguards, drawing his machine pistol and yanking her roughly to her feet. All around the room, bodyguards emerged and drew their weapons to protect their respective charges.

Kaguya spared a single glance out the window and saw a black, angular helicopter flying low straight towards the estate. It must have been using some sort of stealth technology, because it was just over a hundred meters away and it was barely audible. "Get down!" her bodyguard ordered, tackling her to the ground and shielding her with his body. The other five House members were similarly pinned to the floor.

A second later, heavy machine gun fire ripped through the meeting room as the helicopter strafed the manor. Two unfortunate guards were shredded as they stepped unknowingly into the firing line.

"We have to evacuate!" her guard shouted, hauling her upwards like she was weightless and carrying her bodily towards the door.

With the other five elders in tow, they sprinted through the manor to the large garage, where a number of armored vehicles were assembled for this express purpose. Kaguya's guard placed her in the back seat of one of the SUVs. Three more piled into the vehicle, flanking her in the back and occupying both front seats.

Not even bothering with the garage door, the driver plowed right through the thin metal, relying on the bullbars to soak the damage.

They made it halfway down the winding driveway, which was unfortunately designed in such a way as to slow down approaching vehicles and keep them from building speed. This was unfortunate because it worked both ways.

At halfway, the guardhouse was blown up by what looked like a grenade launcher, and a cargo truck reversed in through the hole. The trailer opened up in the rear.

"Fuck me," her driver swore, before being torn apart by the 50. calibur machine gun mounted in the trailer. The SUV spun out of control, flipping sideways and rolling to a stop. Kaguya was thrown about the vehicle violently, but fortunately its interior was heavily reinforced and padded for passenger protection.

It still hurt though, and she ended up badly dazed on what used to be the driver's side, and was now the floor.

As the first vehicle became an accidental blockade, the five trailing it were forced to halt.

"Stay here, miss," one of her two remaining guards instructed as he poked his head out the now upwards side door. It immediately exploded like an overripe melon, sending a shower of gore down into the vehicle.

Outside the downed SUV, the rest of the bodyguards realized that flight was no longer an option. Fight it was then. As one, they piled out of the convoy and dove into any nearby cover.

Surprisingly, the heavy machine gun mounted in the trailer didn't immediately shred them. Instead, the truck drove outwards through the demolished guard station. Several cautious and warily hopeful glances were exchanged among the bodyguards before the gap filled with hostiles.

The man leading the advance was a walking mountain, grinning manically as he sprayed aimless suppression fire from the LMG he was holding with one arm. Dozens of similar zealots marched behind him, clad in black cassocks.

As he approached the pinned bodyguards, he began some sort of chant that his followers replied to.

"Who are we?"

" **Tʜᴇ Nᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ Eᴠɪʟ!** "

" _Why_ are we necessary?"

" **Tᴏ ᴘᴜʀɢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴛᴀɴᴅs ɪɴ ᴏᴜʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀ's ᴡᴀʏ!"**

"And why are we our Saint's chosen, ordained for this unholy task?"

" **Bᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ!** "

With that final cry, the zealots charged. Their leader had been distracted by the chant, and the bodyguards saw their opportunity. Perhaps if they dropped him, the rest would rout. As one, they emerged from cover and unloaded their machine pistols on the Britannian priest.

The fire slowed as the guards froze in shock.

The priest, never even hesitating, _walked through the hail of bullets_. Like flies on a windshield, the bullets simply pinged off his body and fell to the ground—even those that impacted his face.

Still smiling like a loon, the priest continued his advance, his followers keeping perfect step behind him.

"Pᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴀʀᴍᴏᴜʀ ᴏꜰ Gᴏᴅ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪʟᴇs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ."

The mob reached the first entrenchment of guards. They fired wildly at the priest, but to no avail.

"Fᴏʀ ᴡᴇ ᴡʀᴇsᴛʟᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ꜰʟᴇsʜ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴘʀɪɴᴄɪᴘᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs, ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs, ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇʀs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ sᴘɪʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅɴᴇss ɪɴ ʜɪɢʜ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇs."

With inhuman strength, Anderson grabbed the skull of the first bodyguard and simply _squeezed_ until it popped like a cherry.

"Wʜᴇʀᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴜɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴀʀᴍᴏᴜʀ ᴏꜰ Gᴏᴅ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜsᴛᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠɪʟ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴀʟʟ, ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀɴᴅ."

The second guard tried to scurry away on his back, but with a nonchalant gesture Anderson pointed his right arm at him. His metal hand opened up like a flower blossoming, and a pilot light inside ignited.

"Sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ, ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏɪɴs ɢɪʀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀsᴛᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜsɴᴇss;"

A blinding streak of flame shot from the priest's outstretched arm, cooking the bodyguard alive.

"Aɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴛ sʜᴏᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏsᴘᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ;"

The flaming man rolled about in agony, desperately trying to put himself out. Finally, a blonde woman with glasses and a cigarette put him down with a quick shot from her pistol.

"Aʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴀʟʟ, ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ sʜɪᴇʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀɪᴛʜ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴇ sʜᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ǫᴜᴇɴᴄʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪᴇʀʏ ᴅᴀʀᴛs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ."

Desperate, the remaining bodyguards laid more suppressing fire into the mob. Several of them were clipped through their armored cassocks, but they continued as if pain had no meaning to them.

"Aɴᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟᴍᴇᴛ ᴏꜰ sᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Sᴘɪʀɪᴛ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴏꜰ Gᴏᴅ:"

As one, the zealots lifted their firearms. Like the vengeful wrath of God, the air was filled with lead flying in both directions.

Pʀᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ Sᴘɪʀɪᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇᴜɴᴛᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴇʀsᴇᴠᴇʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ sᴀɪɴᴛs."

By the time the final verse was finished, only one side remained. The Iscariots lowered their smoking guns to survey the havoc they wrought. Anderson pretended to tap his earpiece.

"Problem back at base, lads! We've been ordered to abort immediately! Fall back to point Genesis!"

"Sir!" shouted Heinkel in false protest. "We're a stone's throw from our objective! The guards are down!"

Anderson pulled his sidearm and fired a shot the flew an inch from the German woman's left ear. "Question your orders again, and I'll correct my aim. Fall back!"

With a growl, Heinkel and the other Iscariots pulled back to where the trailer was parked. Once everyone was loaded back in and the helicopter was confirmed as enroute back to base, Anderson rapped the partition between trailer and cab twice. The door came down in the back, and the truck pulled out.

Father Anderson turned to his flock and grinned viciously. "Mission successful, lads! Saint Lelouch will be pleased!"

* * *

A wide-eyed and shellshocked Kaguya slowly hauled her fragile body out of her downed SUV and nearly emptied her stomach. All around her were mercilessly slain bodyguards. Some mutilated, some incinerated, and others merely shot. All were dead.

The stench of burnt flesh entered her nostrils and this time she did vomit over the side of the vehicle.

Dazedly, she stumbled to the ground and landed in a pool of blood and gore. Her senses were so overloaded with horror that it didn't register, however.

She looked up, and saw her five fellow House representatives slowly step out of their cars. A shocked silence loomed over the scene, only permeated by the occasional choking gasp of the dying.

"We're going to need another meeting."

* * *

While Milly and Sayoko bathed in the afterglow, Lelouch decided to finish some paperwork in the office at his Ashford Academy home. Payments to the E.U mercenaries, Chinese manufacturing and importation of the Tandem frames. There was always something that he had to sign off on or review.

There was a soft knocking on his door, and he called out permission to enter. Lucinda stepped into the office, bowing formally. "Master Lelouch, the Shadows have uncovered something that requires you attention."

He beckoned her forward and she placed something on the desk before him. It was a plain black business card, bearing only a phone number and a small, star-like symbol in the top right corner and a yellow circular flower in the opposite.

"Several known agents of Kyoto began making subtle overtures towards our more public Shadows. When contact was made, they simply bade that this card was passed along to you."

"Thank you," he said in clear dismissal. "And do keep a close eye on Nunnally, would you? With this business going on, I fear my absence may affect her emotionally."

"Of course, Master."

The maid and assassin departed, leaving Lelouch alone with the card. He turned it over, but the back was blank. What precise manner of overture was this? Was it subtle, but official? Or was it a private message? It would determine his approach.

He examined the symbols. The star was obvious, being the official symbol of Kyoto. Which meant that the circular flower had to be some sort of personal emblem. Closing his eyes, he mentally reviewed the list of Kyoto members and tried to recall any sort of symbols linked to them.

Taizo Kirihara: unofficial leader of Kyoto and thus the most likely to have a personal symbol on an official overture. Ruthless and renowned politician, but not nobility in his own right. Not enough history to have his own symbol.

Munakata Tousai: minor noble house, but wealthy enough that it didn't matter. Known hothead and conservative. Highly unlikely to attempt a private communication with someone as 'rash' as Zero.

Kaguya Sumeragi: rumored fiancee of Suzaku Kururugi and formerly tied to the Japanese Imperial Throne...

That was it! The Chrysanthemum Crest! It was the official symbol of the Japanese Imperial Family. After their execution during the invasion, the Sumeragi Clan was the only real family left qualified to bear it.

That made this a private overture from Kaguya Sumeragi. Interesting.

He considered the card. There was little harm in simply making the call, so long as he was careful and covered his tracks.

With rapid fingers, he dialed the number into his encrypted cellphone. It rang exactly twice, before it was picked up.

"Hello?" asked a young and female voice. To the average listener it would be imperceptible, but he could pick up the faintest tremor of nervousness in her tone.

Perfect.

* * *

Still shaken, Kaguya laid on the bed of her room in the Sumeragi Safehouse. After narrowly avoiding what could only have been a Britannian assassination attempt, her former manor was obviously compromised.

The only upside was that at least she was finally away from the rest of those formalist relics that called themselves her elders. They hadn't been in the emergency meeting for three minutes before Tousai was accusing Hiroyoshi of selling them out. From that second, Kaguya knew that Kyoto was doomed irrevocably. The one, core principle holding the tenuous alliance between the Six Houses together had been a mutual trust for the sake of Japan.

With the ambush, that trust had been shattered as everyone sought someone else to blame.

Kyoto was a mess now. She was getting updated security protocols every hour or so as her peers desperately sought to outmaneuver the 'traitor' within the Houses. Technically, _she_ was a traitor, but she hadn't sold them out to whoever held the leash of those monsters.

This infighting would cause problems on the outside as well. The JLF would suffer supply shortages as the elders tried to erase the trails of their activities from their fellows. Not to mention, this would shatter their public image as a single, united front. With Zero already inflaming the Japanese against them, this would be their death knell.

Once again, the urgency of contacting Zero was all she could think of. One of her agents had succeeded in persuading one of his into passing her card up the chain. All she could do now was pray it would reach him and that he wasn't so belligerent against them that he wouldn't hear her out.

Suddenly, her private phone vibrated. Her hand shot out like a snake to snatch it from beside and she looked down to see that it was a blocked number. She instantly hit accept.

"Hello?" she asked, trying to project as much poise and confidence as she could into her tone.

"Lady Sumeragi, I presume?" inquired a cultured, urbane voice that made her spine shiver. She couldn't fumble this.

"Indeed. Master Zero, I presume? Or do you simply prefer Zero?"

The voice chuckled. "Just Zero will suffice. 'Master Zero' is an appellation generally exclusive to my Shadows. Apparently, some of those I had them working with picked it up from them. Now, Lady Sumeragi, you went through great lengths to contact me privately. How can I be of assistance?"

"May I be blunt?" she asked.

"Of course."

She took a deep breath. All or nothing. "Kyoto is a sinking ship. I'd like to offer my services and knowledge to you."

"I see," Zero drawled neutrally, conveying no opinion. "You know as a rule, I don't trust traitors. What reason have I to believe you?"

"A gift."

"Oh?" exclaimed Zero, sounding almost amused. "And what kind of gift?"

"A seventh-generation Knightmare."

"Please," scoffed the revolutionary dismissively, "if I wanted to steal the Lancelot, I'd have done so ages ago. But I've no use for an inoperable Knightmare."

Kaguya's chest tightened. "No!" she exclaimed. "Not the Lancelot! A new seventh-generation, from India. The Chinese are desperate to destabilize the Britannians here so that they can move in on Japan, so they commissioned one of their most prodigious researchers to build a seventh-generation frame for Suzaku Kururugi. The frame and its creator will be arriving on our shores in two days. I will give you the landing coordinates for free. If it pans out, you can extract me and I'll give you _everything_."

There was a tense pause as Zero considered this, and every single beat of Kaguya's heart seemed to stretch on for eternity.

"Why betray the JLF?" he asked eventually. "If Suzaku Kururugi is your fiance, why are you so eager to sell him out to me?"

"It's an arranged marriage," she assured him hastily. "It was supposed to secure Suzaku's loyalty to Kyoto, but they already have it. Not to mention, I _loathe_ Suzaku."

"I can tell. Very well, give me the coordinates. If they pan out, I'll be in touch. If not..."

The message went unsaid, but still echoed through Kaguya's head.

"Right, do you have a pen?"


	9. Chapter 9: A Hike in the Mountains

**Welcome back folks. Neolyph here with more Darwin. I've been ill the last few days with nothing better to do than write, and I've finally nailed down the story path for the near future, so here's a quick, slightly-shorter chapter.**

 **For those curious as to the design of the Tandem, think the Japanese Kurata mech, but with a taller, more cylindrical center and directly-mounted weapons instead of arms.**

 **Now, for reviews!**

 **Imperator's slave: For the moment, an OC will be piloting the Lancelot**

 **Dany le fou: It is _Mr._ Maroon. A certain police girl may make an appearance, but not right now.**

 **the reaper's brawler: You, my friend, are in luck. Zero's Court Ladies will rally around their head when the time comes.**

 **The King in White: The philosophical differences come in to play with regards to how canon Lelouch and Darwin Lelouch carry out their respective plans. Canon Lelouch is really only planning a rebellion. He has no real plan to keep his tiny country from being stomped into mulch by a global superpower the second he manages to liberate it. Darwin Lelouch has planned entirely around the eventuality of him controlling a liberated Japan and keeping Britannia out of it. Not to mention, canon Lelouch tried to portray himself and the Black Knights as puckish vigilantes. Darwin Lelouch has fully embraced his overall lack of inhibition and is feeding the Japanese frustration against everything in his way. I do try to keep story elements roughly in line with things shown in canon; artificial geass users, cybernetics, Purists, etc. I'm trying to do something new while still feeling like Code Geass.**

 **Now on with the show!**

Chapter 9: A Hike in the Mountains

Two men in ghillie suits lay prone on the mountainside surrounding the Matsumoto ghetto. These men were operatives from Area 11's branch of the Domestic Intelligence Service, sent by Vicereine Carine to monitor the Eleven activity in the wake of their uprising and search for the stolen frames.

"Fuckin' hell..." muttered Keith, eyes glued to a pair of high-powered binoculars.

The ruined base was a thrumming hive of activity. It had only been thirty-two hours since the base had been overrun, but it was already in working order once more. Rough but solid barricades had been erected in the wall gaps, and all routes in and out were manned by grim, European-looking mercenaries. S.A.M sites had been erected around the perimeter. Eleven laborers were burning bodies and scrubbing blood from the walls with the air of those cleaning up after a festival.

Inside the base, movement was constant. Dark-clad figures dashed about on various tasks, from training to logistics. A Caucasian redhead in an akubra was efficiently running several mid-sized platoons through exercise drills. Another mercenary seemed to be instructing the Elevens on the inner workings of a rifle he was holding.

Worst of all, a fair number of the monkeys were clustered around where some kind of cheap, hideous-looking Knightmares were parked outside the hangar. Trucks had been streaming in and out of the base all morning, delivering loads of these monstrosities to the Knightmare hangar and departing.

But hideous or not, a Knightmare was a Knightmare. Even those trash Gun-Ru's the Chinese fielded could cause substantial damage from a distance.

It seemed that they had _vastly_ underestimated this 'Zero' figure's resources. E.U mercs? S.A.M sites? Unknown Knightmare frames? Supply convoys?

This wasn't an uprising. It was a bloody _revolution_.

There was a soft rustle of the wind, and he shivered. "Michael," he said, unable to look away from the base, "start jotting this down for the report, right now."

His partner didn't respond, and years of DIS experience kicked in. He drew his sidearm and rolled to the side just in time to avoid a tranquilizer dart the thudded into the ground right where his neck he been.

Although he couldn't see his target, he laid a few blind shots into the undergrowth behind him as a deterrent. Next to him, Michael lay dead to the world, a needle protruding from his back. The comm radio was attached to his belt. If he could call backup, there was a good chance he could pull out of this.

Laying a few more rounds into the surrounding bushes, he dove for the radio. He was halfway there when a thick boot caught him in the chin.

The world went black.

* * *

Groggily, Keith awoke. He wasn't sure how long it had been, but the sun was still in the same general position so it couldn't have been more than an hour. His location had significantly changed, however.

He was tied to a chair, next to a large glass window in the upper floors of some sort of abandoned skyscraper. It was probably one of the handful of still-standing ones in the ruined Matsumoto commercial district.

Good. Location established. That was the first step in dealing with capture.

Several meters right of him, Michael stirred. His partner was similarly bound, both chairs giving them a broad, panoramic perspective of the bustling ghetto.

"Lovely view, isn't it?" asked a voice behind them in perfect Britannian. Both agents tried turning to face their captor, but neither could crane their necks that far while bound to the metal chairs.

Obligingly, the figure stepped forward and into their field of vision. He was tall, and dressed in a hooded black coat. His face was concealed behind a white mask bearing a dark red fist on it. A pair of thermal-optic goggles dangled from his neck. So that was how they'd been found. Damn it.

"Look," said Michael immediately, "my partner and I here are just two hard-working blokes doing our jobs. It's nothing personal. Please."

Textbook anti-torture technique. Build a sympathetic connection with your captor.

The white-masked figure seemed unimpressed. He ignored Michael and turned to the large window. Both he and his partner flinched violently as the Eleven pulled a pistol from his coat and shot the storm-grade window several times. The low-caliber bullets stuck inside the glass, seeding it with deep cracks.

"Now," began their interrogator as he removed two blindfolds from his pocket and secured them over their eyes, "we're going to play a little game called 'Who Talks First?'. The rules are very simple. You see, one of you is going to tell me everything I want to know, and the other... is going right out that window."

Keith began shaking. He'd always had a severe fear of heights, and the blindfold was magnifying that by a thousand. "Keith, don't say _anything_ ," hissed his partner.

"But Michael—"

" _Shut up!_ "

"So, who's feeling talkative?"

When neither he nor Michael responded, the torturer's footsteps began stalking back and forth like a cat deciding which mouse to pounce on.

"You?" he asked cheerfully, bumping Keith's chair forward slightly from behind. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but gritted his teeth. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes against his will.

"How about you?" the masked man tried, and there was the sound of Michael's chair being knocked towards the window. Keith heard his gasp, but he bore it.

There was an aggrieved sigh. "Alright guys, last chance to volunteer. Anybody? Anybody at all?"

Both he and Michael whimpered, but neither could give in.

"Okay..." chuckled the torturer, and his voice began moving back and forth from behind them.

"Eenie." Behind him.

"Meenie." Behind Michael.

"Miney." Behind him again.

"Mo." There was the horrifying sound of shattering glass, and the even more horrific screams of his partner as he plummeted to his death.

He broke. Shame filled him profoundly, but it was far outweighed by fear. "I'll talk, damn it! I'll talk! Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! Just don't throw me out the goddamn window!"

The blindfold was removed, and he was once more staring up at the white-masked figure. His gaze immediately turned to where Michael had been thrown out, but a gloved hand snatched his chin and forced his focus back.

"Michae—"

"Uhuhuh," interrupted the interrogator, lifting his hands up scoldingly. "Michael is gone now, Keith. Michael has... left the building.

* * *

The interrogation went smoothly from there, the fight gone from Keith as though it had been excised with a scalpel. Mr. Maroon extracted a list of all the agents sent to do surveillance on the ghettos, their positions, and their check-in procedures. So long as they moved quickly, the Occupation would be blind to them.

Four stories below, his partner Mr. Gold was Geass-binding the one called Michael. Geass was such a useful tool. His allowed him to manipulate a target's fears and make them hallucinate whatever he desired. Like throwing a man's partner out a window to prey on his fear of heights.

Mr. Gold's was similar to Master Zero's, but he could only give commands regarding the body. Thus, while Mr. Gold could not force an individual to give him information, he _could_ force someone to refrain from any action that they thought might reveal the fact that they'd been compromised or from reporting anything besides business as usual from the ghettos.

The two wide-eyed agents departed back to their observation post, silent prisoners in their own bodies.

They certainly had mouths, but they could not scream.

* * *

Tetsuo had never been worked this hard in his life. Of course, living in the ghettos meant that you had to stay on you toes, but at least there he wasn't getting hauled out of bed at dawn by a French Drill Sergeant.

He'd been shown the ropes quickly. A basic kit of training gear was given to him, containing things like toiletries, undergarments, a canteen, and exercise wear. For the first time in six years, he had a hot shower. God he'd missed hot showers. And clean clothes. And soap that wasn't homemade. And beds with working springs.

Fuck... it was only when given contrast that he remembered how much had been taken from him and his people by the Britannians.

After group P.T and a light breakfast, he and the other seventy-three Tandem operators reported to the Knightmare hangar where the same merc who'd given him his examination was leaning against one of the Tandem's legs.

Pilots and gunners had been instructed to pair off with one another. Apparently, working a Tandem required constant coordination with your partner, so the better you knew them, the more effective you would be in the field. Any that didn't already have a partner in mind were assigned. Fortunately, with the intimacy of the ghetto that wasn't much of a problem.

"You and your partner are now a single unit. Every single exercise for ze remainder of your time in ze Black Knights will be you and your partner. You will eat, sleep, train, and fight wiz your partner. I'd recommend picking someone you trust wiz your life."

He'd ended up with Ken, an old friend of his from Secondary School. While they were forced apart in the wake of the invasion, they'd raised hell together in their young teen years. Ken had always been the calm brains to his enthusiastic impulsiveness. Ahh. Good times. Innocent times. Now though, he and his new partner were preparing to raise a different kind of hell.

Once partners were assigned, they were brought inside the interior of the frame to familiarize themselves with it. You entered through a bottom hatch, accessible via a descending ladder when the frame was squatted down.

Inside, you immediately found yourself in the driver's seat. The controls were simple, intuitive, and labeled in neat Japanese. Chinese manufacturing—there was something to be said for its uniformity if nothing else. Using handholds built into the side of the walls, Tetsuo had climbed further up to the gunner's seat. This upper half could rotate independently of the bottom, which gave it a better firing arc than a Sutherland.

Apparently, this was all at the expense of an ejection system.

"Don't get hit," the mercenary had said pointedly when a soldier called attention to it. His tone implied that he thought ejection seats to be an unnecessary extravagance. Tetsuo could accept that. He hadn't joined the Black Knights unwilling to die. Even if he went down in a fiery inferno, so long as it led to a free Japan it was worth it.

Three angled screens gave a wide view of the frame's surroundings from the miniature factspheres, and a thin screen along the top displayed a rear-view feed.

It ran off a modified hybrid Sakuradite-Diesel engine, like the E.U Reiter frames. It burned quicker, which shortened the engagement time, but it was easier to maintain and fuel. As a guerrilla outfit, that was a must. This engine was apparently in the bottom of the frame, wrapped around the central entrance hatch. The four armored legs served as additional protection for it.

He had to say, he _liked_ it. It felt solid. Sutherlands were elegant and graceful, but Tandems were quick and _mean_.

After a brief tour of the inner frame, he and Ken were pulled out and brought to a bay full of Tandem simulators. He could see over to the opposite end of the bay where the more talented recruits and veteran resistance fighters were loading into Sutherland simulators. He looked back at his and grinned.

Time to see what one of these could do.

* * *

A large private jet flew low into Area 11's airspace, carefully exploiting gaps in the radar coverage to come in undetected. It eventually neared a clearing pre-scouted by the handful of O.S.I sleeper agents already set up in the Area. When it was ready to touch down, specialized landing gear emerged and allowed the luxury jet to pull off an easy field landing.

The door opened, and Robert Vanderbilt stepped onto the land where his master was imprisoned. He breathed the air in. Foul.

Several SUVs were parked in the nearby trees. A rather large, bald man stepped into view, dabbing at his sweating face with a handkerchief. "Acting-Director Vanderbilt," he greeted humbly, touching the flat of his hand to his forehead in the traditional salute of the Geass Directorate.

"Brigadier General Asprius," Vanderbilt greeted back, jerking his head in a silent order for his men to dismount the plane. They did so efficiently, unloading cases of equipment brought with them and carrying them to the vehicles. "Has everything been arranged?"

"Yes, my lord, b—"

"Excellent. We'll have our master back to his rightful place in a matter of months."

"Indeed, my lord, yet I—

Ignoring the simpering fool, Vanderbilt strode to the lead vehicle and climbed into the rear seat. The driver in a suit and sunglasses didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence. Well trained, he liked that.

"My lord," said a panting Bartley, who had apparently run after him, "there _is_ a mat—"

"Have you compiled a report on the JLF as I asked?"

Had he been speaking to anyone else, Bartley would have growled in exasperation.

"I've been trying to tell you. There's a problem. The Vicereine's planning on assaulting the JLF base."

Vanderbilt scoffed. "Nonsense. The Emperor gave her express orders that she was not to take any offensive actions. And anyway, she's on the back foot with this whole 'Zero' situation."

The O.S.I operatives finished loading their equipment into the vehicles. Their task completed, they piled into the SUVs and readied to leave. A moment later, the vehicle train began rolling towards the main road and the jet took off back for Britannia.

"I don't know how to explain it, my lord. Her Highness has convinced herself that the JLF have to be taken out before Zero. She's concocted some scheme to bait the JLF into attacking her by moving half her remaining army through the mountains the terrorists are based in on the way to the naval base, under the guise of reinforcing it. That way, it will be self defense."

The Interim-Director blinked in shock. "That's the most asinine plan I've ever heard."

"Her Highness is desperate. She seems to think that if she can deal with the JLF, and by extension Zero, without aid, then the His Majesty won't strip her of her privileges after this."

"Ahh," nodded Vanderbilt. That made much more sense. "You can always trust the Royal children to clutch power like a life-preserver."

"Indeed," agreed Bartley reluctantly, somewhat hesitant at the prospect of insulting the Royal Family. The convoy reached the main road, and the Tokyo Settlement became visible on the horizon.

"Nonetheless, Carine's little plan will cause us problems. We can't permit her to seize the JLF base. If our master is imprisoned there, there's no guarantee we'll be able to extract him first." That would be terrible. The only thing worse than their master in the hands of terrorists would be their master in the hands of an ambitious Royal.

He shivered at the thought.

* * *

Lelouch lay in bed, a laptop open on his lap and a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he looked into the tip Sumeragi had offered him. Satellite images indicated that the coordinates she'd supplied were of a large open clearing in the Narita Mountains. The secret landing strip certainly looked large enough to be functional, and was near the JLF base.

If this seventh-generation Knightmare was real, he couldn't afford to let the JLF have it instead of him. Suzaku Kururugi was rumored to be an ace pilot, although that may have been simple propaganda. If it was even mildly accurate though, it made him a threat. Not to mention, the things Kallen could do with a seventh-generation frame...

"You're thinking about her again," Sayoko pointed out accusingly from where she lay naked next to him. Milly had left some hours ago for classes, but Lelouch had opted to stay in bed with the assassin while he worked. It seemed that it was time to have that discussion. Unlike with Mao, a firm hand would go further here.

"I was," he admitted simply.

"You get that look in your eyes whenever you think about her. That sort of violent arousal. Like you want to fuck her while she's killing someone for you."

"I find that sort of power intoxicating, Sayoko. You of all people should be familiar with that."

It was true. The number of bodies Sayoko had stacked up in her Master's name could fill a cemetery. And he always made sure to express his... _appreciation_ for her many talents.

"And how many women is enough for you? Who's next? The Irregulars? Bella? Lucinda? I—"

In a flash, Lelouch's eyes hardened. He agilely flipped over so that he was straddling Sayoko and pinned her to the bed tightly. While her Meld enhancements made her easily strong enough to shake him, her muscles turned to jelly as his domineering side emerged.

"Who I _fuck_ is none of your business, slut," he growled lowly, cigarette still in his lips. She quivered under his gaze. " _Your_ business is to kill who I tell you and suck my cock when I get bored, understand?"

She nodded shakily, but his eyes demanded more. "Yes," she said.

One of his hands clamped around her throat tightly. "Yes _what_?

"Yes Master!" she shrieked, and that finally satisfied him.

"Good girl," he cooed sternly, sliding off her and retrieving his laptop from where it had been discarded. He pulled up the satellite images again, but he was distracted by Sayoko's heavy breathing next to him. It seemed he'd turned her on too much.

He sighed. "I'm bored," he said in the tone of a command and she eagerly set to work. As he perused Fulcrum's database on the JLF, a skillful tongue began working his length.

The Black Knights wouldn't be nearly trained enough for an operation like this by tomorrow night. That meant he'd be using Fulcrum troops. Sumeragi had said that there were only to be two guards in those awful Burai frames, along with two squads of infantry. Apparently, their were prizing secrecy over security while Carine was sniffing about. Smart, if there wasn't a traitor in their ranks.

Sayoko bobbed her head down to swallow his cock fully, and he shifted the laptop backwards to accommodate her. He extended a hand and forced her down further until she was kissing his balls. She shook with pleasure.

A bubbly student-body president, a submissive murderer, a childish mind-reader, a fiery Knightmare pilot, and very occasionally a motherly immortal. Quite the harem he'd accumulated for himself, he thought dryly.

With a smirk, he ashed his cigarette on the nightstand and went back to planning. With only two real guards, he should be able to seize the 'Guren MKII', as it was apparently called, with relative ease. Kallen, Jeremiah, and the Irregulars should suffice. Maybe a sniper team of Shadows too. He could go on foot and take Kallen's Sutherland after she drove off in the Guren.

No, that wouldn't work. He also needed the creator. If he wanted any chance of integrating a control rig with it before the next step of the operation, he'd need the woman who designed it. Rakshata Chawla.

He'd have to ask Reuben if he was familiar with her. The idea of an unknown building a seventh-generation he didn't know about, it didn't sit well with him.

So to kidnap her as well as steal the frame...

The Narita Mountains were JLF territory. They knew that range like the backs of their hands. Anything ground-based large enough to kidnap someone with wouldn't be able to outrun them there.

Helicopter then. It was an airstrip, after all. The problem there would be the likely potential that the JLF would have anti-air emplacements throughout the mountains.

He could send a few Shadows to ask some pointed questions, but they were stretched a tad thin at the moment. He already got a report that they'd spent most of this morning neutralizing DIS surveillance posts set up around the ghettos.

Sayoko's teeth nibbled his head, and he felt the brink approach. He didn't bother to warn her—she knew his signs well enough by this point.

Perhaps this called for a hands-on approach. It wasn't like he had anything better to be doing. The Black Knights were training and Kewell could handle most administrative duties.

With a sigh of momentary bliss, he came. His faithful assassin gulped it down easily, not daring to let a single drop spill.

"Sayoko," he asked as she cleaned him with her tongue, "how would you like to go on a hike with me?"

* * *

Tetsuo and Ken spent the better part of a morning getting the shit kicked out of them before lunch was called. Simulation after simulation getting thrown about and blown up in dozens of imaginative ways by the French OPFOR.

The instructors were merciless. Tandems may have been effective frames, but he and Ken were novices, and the 'Wild Geese', as the mercenaries were named, were all veteran pilots in Sutherlands. After having demonstrated what would happen if they didn't dedicate themselves to their training, the instructor called it a day and informed them that they would begin training proper at the same time tomorrow.

Haggard and sore, they crawled out the bottom of the simulator and stumbled with the rest of the worn operators to the mess hall.

Proper Japanese cuisine, prepared by native cooks with real ingredients. It was like mana from heaven. Even for military food, the mess hall was quiet as a temple—the only sound being the eager consumption of the fare.

Every soldier ate his fill, as much as they were allowed. His hunger fully sated for the first time in a long while, Tetsuo was marched out to the firing range for three hours of instruction with the infantrymen.

"Right," said the instructor as he stood before a table with a number of weapons assembled on it. "Your boss, Zero, has arranged for ze E.U German army to supply us with zer surplus weapons."

He picked up the first weapon, a solid-looking assault rifle. "Zis, is your bread and butter. Ze Heckler and Koch G36 Assault Rifle. It accepts 5.56x45mm cartridges, with a zirty round magazine. Gas operated. By ze time our time together is at an end, you will be able to disassemble, clean, reassemble, and land all zirty rounds in a target at one-hundred meters. In two minutes."

Several recruits looked worried, but others seemed to take it as a challenge.

"Moving on, ze H&K USP. Your sidearm. What will save your life when an enemy is charging and your magazine is empty. 9x19mm cartridges. 15 round magazine. Effective gun, for German work anyway. All of you will receive zese two guns. Ze rest will be assigned based on aptitude and zeir recipients will receive additional training.

The next gun he hefted was an enormous LMG. "Take a guess at ze manufacturer. H&K MG4. Belt fed. 5.56mm. Relatively lightweight, and designed for safety and operation in adverse conditions. Good for insurgency. Serves as a nice squad support weapon."

"When your woman's angry and you need some distance, ze H&K 417 Battle Rifle has a couch you can sleep on. 7.62x51mm cartridges. Gas operated. Selective fire. Zreaded barrel for when discretion is key. Enough raw power to damage a Sutherland if you hit just ze right spot."

The Frenchman moved to the end of the table, picking up a hand grenade. "Now, zis is where we get to ze fun stuff. DM51 hand grenade. 4.5 second fuse. 6500 steel balls inside mean anything fleshy near one of zese when it goes off, is going to have a bad day."

"Finally," said the instructor, shouldering an enormous rocket launcher, "ze Panzerfaust 4. Laser target finder, airburst capabilities. Your boss decided to even ze field between you and ze Knightmares with zese. He's provided special warheads. First, I believe are called grapeshot. You paint a Knightmare, fire, and twenty meters out ze warhead will detonate like a chaos mine and flood ze area with APDS. Second, ze hunter. Mark a Knightmare with a special tag bullet, and zese missiles will lock on and pursue until zey run out of fuel or impact. Third, and my favorite, ze bolo. Like your Tandem frames, zese launch two magnetized grenades, connected by a cord. When zey strike a Knightmare, zey wrap around and detonate. Ze cord is too zin to entangle a frame's legs, but it will still blow ze hell out of zem."

As an afterthought, he tacked on. "I also believe he acquired a fair number of Puma IFVs, although I don't believe zey've arrived yet. When zey do, you will also be trained in zer operation."

Tetsuo and the other recruits stared wide-eyed at the arsenal Zero had supplied. The days of battered handguns and molotov cocktails were over.

"Any questions?"

* * *

An expensive, but unarmored minivan pulled to a stop on the shoulder of a road surrounded by forest and mountains. A faded sign with Japanese lettering marked a nearby overgrown path as the start to the Narita Hiking Trail.

"I told you it was here!" said Lelouch triumphantly, stepping out of the passenger's seat. He was dressed in an impractical combination of hiking gear and Ashford Academy uniform, the perfect outfit for a naive young aristocrat out on an excursion with his friends.

"I suppose you were right," admitted Sancia as she stepped out after him, similarly dressed. The rest of the Irregulars filed out of the van as well. He'd have preferred to have just taken Sayoko for this mission, but the Board had ruled several years ago that he was too valuable to field without at least his personal bodyguard to accompany him. He technically had the power to overrule them, but he felt they were reasonable in their caution. He _could_ be reckless occasionally, although he'd mostly outgrown that.

He could have brought Kallen, but she was a Knightmare pilot, not a foot soldier. It would have been like asking Beethoven to paint a portrait. Not to mention, this relative alone time would help further smooth things over with Sayoko.

The assassin in question stepped out the driver's seat, dressed in a Britannian maid's uniform. She had an enormous hiking pack attached to her thin frame, the very image of a put-upon Japanese slave. Although her muscle-toner meant that carrying the pack was effortless, she pretended to sway and struggle under it.

Deliberately ignoring her, the five teenagers started gabbing idly among themselves about homework and tests and celebrity gossip as they began their way up the trail.

* * *

Rei was starting to get seriously goddamn bored. Guard duty in the middle of the fucking wilderness. The A.A emplacement he would admit was precious, but did it seriously require four men to guard it when it only took two to operate?

Sighing, he took another draw of his cigarette—the last of his pack. Kyoto had apparently halted the supply shipment that was supposed to come in this morning. He wasn't sure what their deal was, but it was pissing him off.

" _Did you hear that Rivalz Cardemonde got picked up for illegal gambling? Apparently his parents had to bail him out. I heard he's grounded the rest of the semester._ "

He froze, dropping the cigarette in his shock and hastily grabbing his rifle from where it was sitting next to him. Those voices were Britannian. He didn't speak the enemy language, but he'd heard enough to recognize it.

Jogging over, he poked his head into the tent. "Haruto, Riku, Asahi," he whispered urgently, "we've got Britannians incoming."

"Hostile?" asked Riku, leaping to his feet and shouldering the battered Type 89 he'd been issued seven years ago.

Rei shook his head. "They sounded young. Get ready. I'm going to see if I can get a stealthy bead on them. Wait until you hear something from me before moving in."

As his comrades armed up, he slowly crept over to the bushes separating the hidden emplacement from the rest of the forest. About thirty meters off, on the old hiking trail, six people were walking parallel to their position. The five he could see in the front were wearing an eclectic combination of hiking gear and some kind of school uniform. They looked like rich kids who had no idea how to to operate in the wilderness.

They parted briefly to step around a puddle in the trail and his breath left his body. The most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on was trudging along behind them, her posture radiating a broken spirit. She labored pitifully under an enormous pack nearly the same size as her, and a demeaning uniform clearly unsuited for outdoor activity.

His blood boiled. A Japanese slave. He had orders that he wasn't to engage anything that didn't directly threaten the emplacement, but he figured this was an acceptable deviation from that.

Shouldering his rifle, he stepped into the open and raised it menacingly. The entire group went rigid and tense when they say him. "Hands up!" he barked in Japanese.

They looked at him in confusion. Fucking Britannians. His finger moved to the trigger.

Suddenly, the woman rushed towards him in clear relief. He just managed to move his rifle aside as she slammed into him like a bullet—wrapping herself around him in a sobbing embrace.

"Thank you," she wept, "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

His face reddened involuntarily. Women were in short supply in the JLF. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been this close to someone of the opposite sex...

No! Bad Rei! Focus! Britannians!

"It's fine," he managed to stammer eventually. "Do you speak Britannian?"

She nodded weakly into his chest. "A little."

He indicated towards the teenagers with his rifle and they jumped. Good. "Can you tell them to put their hands up?"

Hesitantly, the woman turned around and said something to them in halting Britannian. The boy looked ready to argue back, but a gesture from the rifle had him freezing in his tracks. Slowly, he raised his hands and the girls with him did the same.

"Tell them to come over here."

The woman did so, and the Britannians grudgingly approached. The girls shook in fear while the boy glared balefully, almost certainly over being ordered about by an 'Eleven'.

Well tough shit.

"Sayoko," said the boy suddenly, and Rei's body exploded into pain as his gun was wrenched aside and he was placed in a restraining hold quicker than he could blink. Betrayal burned through him, and he was about to cry for help when the boy's purple eyes met his.

" **Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏʙᴇʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ I ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜʀᴀsᴇ 'Wᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɪɴᴅʟʏ',** " he said in perfect Japanese, eyes aglow with inhuman energies.

"Yes, my lord," Rei found himself saying.

"Would you kindly refrain from any attempts to escape, resist us, or call reinforcements?"

"Yes, my lord."

The boy nodded, and the woman, Sayoko, released him. "Would you kindly answer my questions?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Who are you, why are you here, and how many are with you?"

"My name is Rei Takinawa. I'm a soldier of the Japanese Liberation Front, assigned with three others to guard and man an anti-air emplacement."

The boy grinned. "Wonderful. Do the others know you're here?"

"Yes, my lord. I heard your approach and informed them before going on ahead to identify whether you were a threat. They are currently awaiting word from me, in a tent about twenty-five meters behind me."

"Would you kindly lead us there, pretending as skillfully as you can that we're five Britannian students and their Japanese maid that you captured?"

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Lelouch chuckled as the JLF grunt suddenly loosened and pointed his gun at them. "Move!" he barked harshly, jerking his gun towards the undergrowth behind him. Hands above their heads, he and the Irregulars were frogmarched to where a small A.A base was set up. A miniature radar setup, a manned mid-range flak cannon, and two S.A.M sites. Not bad. Sayoko hesitantly followed after Rei, playing the part of Eleven slave excellently.

A camouflaged tent was set up against the base of the flak cannon, and at their approach three more JLF grunts stepped out warily, dressed in faded Imperial Army uniforms. Relics of a bygone and obsolete age.

"Britannian students and their slave out on a hike," explained Rei, gesturing with his rifle.

"Slave?" asked one of the men, before spotting Sayoko and reddening.

"Let's get that pack off of you," said another, stepping up to assist her. "You're among Japanese again. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore."

Lelouch coughed drawing their attention. They made eye-contact, and became his.

From inside the tent, they retrieved a map of all A.A emplacements throughout the mountain range and turned it over to him. He inputted the coordinates into his GPS and thanked them for their time.

"Would you kindly wait until were leave and then forget you've ever seen us before returning to your usual selves?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Would you kindly also refrain from successfully hitting any targets with either your guns or missiles for the next forty-eight hours, while also ignoring any unknown ground-based vehicles?"

"Yes, my lord."

Lelouch chuckled and turned back to Sayoko and the Irregulars. "One down, seven to go."

* * *

Chatter and rumors were flying wildly around the mess hall tables during dinner as the recruits reflected in awe on the equipment their new patron had provided them.

"Un-fucking-believable," muttered a stunned Tetsuo through a mouthful of curry. "How the hell do you think Zero paid for all that shit? He's fully equipping six divisions out of pocket, Knightmares and all, like it's nothing."

Ken shook his head. "Probably gave most of it to him dirt-cheap."

"How the hell does that work?"

"Simple politics," shrugged Ken. "Britannia's mid-way through invading the E.U. They've got the British Isles, Western France, and most of Spain. All of it's running on Sakuradite. Japan's essentially the sole supplier of Sakuradite in Britannia. Any amount of Sakuradite Zero manages to disrupt means less Sakuradite going to the European Front. It's in their best interest to see him succeed, and if he wins, they've got an ally in him. Same deal with the Chinese, except they'd probably take over Japan themselves for the Sakuradite."

" _If_ he wins?" asked another recruit harshly.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Ken defended, raising his hands in surrender, "I'm just a pragmatist. I signed on because Zero's the first revolutionary I've seen so far that actually seems to know what the hell he's doing. But I'm not going to say that victory is certain, because it never is. I will say that I'm seriously impressed by what I've seen thus far."

The other recruits seemed to accept that and returned to chowing down on the Japanese fare.

Tetsuo finished his meal quickly and moved with the rest of the recruits to the lecture tent where one of Zero's, although not Mr. Maroon, began an introduction to basic military terms and techniques. To be honest, it didn't really click all that much, but Ken seemed to be soaking it up like an eager sponge.

Nerd.

It was late when he and the others stepped out into the moonlight and were marched to the barracks. Ken was reassigned to the bunk below him. Now that the routine was established, he quickly fell off to sleep content in the knowledge that when the time came, he'd be ready to fight for his country.

* * *

Deep in a Narita bunker, mentor and apprentice meditated in the center of a circular room, a large Japanese flag adorning a single end of the otherwise spartan area.

Of course, both men were meditating on different matters.

* * *

Kyoshiro 'The Miracle Worker' Todoh was contemplating the recent dispute with Kyoto. He wasn't sure what—although were he a betting man his money would be on something to do with Zero—but something had shaken Kyoto's trust in both one another and the JLF.

He'd received six different security code changes overnight, from all six House members. Some had subtly probed his loyalties, others had outright accused him of treason. Kirihara informed him that supply shipments were being cut off until the 'traitor' was found.

That wasn't good. Morale was already devastated in the wake of the Zero incident. He'd tried to suppress the information, but finding out that some no-name had upstaged them and stolen the support of the Japanese people in just twenty-four hours hadn't sat well. There were times when the only thing keeping them going was the knowledge of Japan's faith in them. If they found out Kyoto was pulling back their support...

If they'd simply told him what happened he would have been able to assuage their doubts, but they were infuriatingly tight-lipped.

He didn't like the idea, but perhaps Suzaku could ask his betrothed. They rarely spoke in person, but he knew they often exchanged letters. Maybe Lady Sumeragi could be persuaded to at least say what had happened.

Even more annoyingly, Kirihara had ordered him, Suzaku, and the Holy Swords to act as security for the Guren MKII's delivery. He knew it was an important piece of machinery, but he'd performed the Miracle of Itsukushima _without_ Knightmares. The Burai frames he and the rest of the JLF were using served quite satisfactorily. Having him and half his command staff spend an afternoon in the wake of a massive piece of civil unrest guarding a _secret_ landing strip was pure overkill.

But orders were orders.

* * *

Meanwhile Suzaku 'The Survivor' Kururugi was imagining in grim detail the things he'd do to Zero once he got his hands on the slimy bastard. Kaguya had sent him a recording of some speech the 'revolutionary' had issued.

He'd rarely been so furious at another human being. Another name entered his 'kill' list. Charles zi Britannia, Carine le Britannia, Villetta Nu, and now _Zero_.

Everything about that speech was an insult to his beliefs. First, he hid behind a mask. Todoh was also a 'government figure' as Zero claimed to once have been, but he never concealed who he was. It was the working of a coward afraid of accountability. Then he executed an entire family, son included, and called it 'resolve'. Suzaku called it _murder_.

'Innocent blood must be shed'. Those were the words of a thug. A killer. And he dared accuse those with honor of naivety or tyranny.

As if that wasn't enough, he had the sheer, unadulterated _gall_ to attack Kyoto and the JLF directly. 'Greedy, cowardly fossils' he called Kyoto—he called _Kaguya_. His fiancee loved Japan just a much as he, she often said as much in their letters. And the JLF, those who had fought and _died_ for a free Japan, he called 'useless and faded lapdogs'.

For that insult alone, Zero deserved death. While Zero had been hiding his face for six years, the JLF had been trying any means at their disposal to hurt the Occupation without the ghettos receiving blowback. He'd seen men choke to death on their own blood, and die praying that their deaths would be a step towards liberation.

And then this... _upstart_ comes along and starts spitting on their graves.

Charles, Carine, Nu, they all at least had the excuse of being Britannians, raised to their cruelty. But Zero, a fellow Japanese, had no excuse.

He wanted to start plumbing every contact at the JLF's disposal to track down this Zero and put him in his place, but Todoh had forbade it.

And orders were orders.

* * *

Countess-General Nu ran her fingers through her silky silver hair as she pored over knight profile after knight profile. Her Highness had somehow managed to procure a seventh-generation Knightmare frame, but apparently it was incredibly tricky to pilot.

So she was the one tasked with finding a devicer for the bloody thing. This was really damn hard considering half her knights had been murdered by those fucking monkeys two nights ago. The DIS had reported no sign of the stolen frames or terrorists, which concerned her. Her Highness had ordered them to pull back behind their lines, which left essentially the entire Area with the exception of the Settlement, the mines, and the naval base for the Elevens to have free, unmonitored reign in.

If the terrorists and frames weren't in the ghettos, that meant they could be _anywhere_. Her personal suspicion was they were planning to target the naval base. The Settlement and the Mt. Fuji were close enough to reinforce one another, but the MvB naval base was completely isolated. If they picked it off, they could focus completely on the other two.

Fortunately, the Vicereine had agreed with her, so of her remaining two-hundred frames, half were being sent Northward in three days. That meant she had three days to find the best pilot in the Area, because the Lancelot was going with them.

She couldn't just look at proficiency. That was a simple measure of compatibility with Knightmare-related skills. So she had to dig deeper into service records, mission reports, and kill counts.

For the first time, she was beginning to regret the Purist 'paperwork-light' policy. Due to the tendencies for their operations to involve... _controversial_ actions, they had a small license to be somewhat vague in their after-action reports.

This made it excruciating to find out what precisely a specific Purist knight had actually _done_ during the course of their career.

From the looks of it, though, she'd found a viable candidate. James Machlin. Distinguished record, former tour in Northern Africa, and had even been considered for the Knights of the Round, even if he didn't make the cut. Devout Purist too.

She jotted the name down on her short list.

Lightning flashed out the window of her office in the palace. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

In his dark workshop, long after Cecile and all the others had gone home, Lloyd sat tinkering. That blank check had been the ticket to everything he'd needed to finish half a dozen side-projects.

This one though... would be a game-changer.

He finished riveting the final bolt through and flicked a switch. The air filled with a low hum, and green light emanated from the device.

"Come on..." he urged the machine. The light flickered and his heart nearly stopped, but both quickly stabilized.

"Come on..."

The humming grew louder and louder. Suddenly, his workbench began floating several inches off the floor.

"It's alive!" he screamed aloud as lightning flashed outside. "IT'S ALIVE!"


	10. Chapter 10: Democracy

**Hello again, my lovely readers! Neolyph here with another chapter of Darwin! As usual, sorry for the wait. I really struggled with this chapter, primarily because I am absolutely shit at writing fight scenes (btw, both review feedback on this one and PMs on somewhere I could get tips on that would be greatly appreciated). My problem is that I always want to do quick, decisive fights in fitting with Lelouch's pragmatic nature, unlike the stereotypical long, drawn-out anime battles. Except a two paragraph fight isn't really all that interesting to read. But in return, I have an extra-long chapter here today. A lot of stuff happens.**

 **By the way, as a disclaimer, this chapter talks a lot of shit about democracy. This isn't me talking, it's Lelouch. I'm kind of working off the idea that since in the C.G universe the American Revolution failed, the American Experiment was never there to show Europe how to do democracy right, free from the intricacies of European history and factionalism. Thus, despite the E.U being democratic, its horrifically corrupt and elitist. And so that's the only frame of reference most people have in mind for democracy. This also helps explain why Britannia as a monarchy still exists when democracy is a thing.**

 **Also, shout out to VermillionAMV's 'Call of Geass' AMV for serving as the inspiration for Lelouch's democracy rant. (Yes, I know its from COD, but it fit the mindset I'm creating for him so well)**

 **Now, for reviews.**

 **Dany le fou: Lelouch does know that with a control rig he could get the Lancelot working, but in order to do that he'd most likely have to kidnap Lloyd along with it. Besides the awkward fact that he's got the man's officially-deceased brother on his payroll, kidnapping the head of Prince Schneizel's Knightmare R &D program would bring more heat down on Lelouch than he's ready for.**

 **The Jingo - The King in White: You do make some very good points. I appreciate these reviews, as they are actually making me think about my characters. As you'll see near the end of this chapter, Lelouch is _not_ an egalatarian, as he shouldn't have been in canon. (United States of Japan my ass, prince boy). And he's not really out to protect the Japanese per se. Slight spoilers, although I hint at it in this chapter, but Lelouch is building the groundwork for a totalitarian state. A relatively benevolent one, but he doesn't really give a damn about human rights or freedom. And he _is_ a Darwinist, just not in the same was as his father. Which makes sense given that Charles' Darwinism is just an excuse to be an expansionist asshole. And Lelouch has a far different endgame than either canon Lelouch or Prepared Rebellion Lelouch. As you can see, I've made some changes to the story description, since I agree that at least so far this story isn't radically different. (Btw, would appreciate if you could or anyone else reading this could help me work out a better description, since I'm iffy on the current one.)**

 **As always, please read, review, and if you like it, give a follow or favorite.**

 **Enjoy the Show!**

Chapter 10: Democracy

Lelouch stood in the open doorway of the transport helicopter as it flew close to the ground towards the distantly-looming Narita Mountains. Down on the stretch of deserted highway below him, three Fulcrum trucks were transporting Kallen, Jeremiah, and the Irregulars in their respective Knightmares.

Flicking his smoldering cigarette into the rushing wind, he closed the side door and stepped back.

Inside the helicopter were three Shadows, along with Sayoko and Father Anderson. The first Shadow looked up from where he was inspecting his silenced rifle, and cybernetic eyes glinted behind his white mask. He nodded respectfully at his Master's attention. His spotter was occupied with a topographical map of the region. Her artificial Geass permitted her to predict a target's movements, so long as nothing interrupted them.

On the other side, the third Shadow was busy broadcasting his own Geass. Usefully for this mission, he could keep anyone outside a specific radius centered on him from noticing anything inside it. Like a helicopter, for example. Anderson and Sayoko were simply there for Lelouch's security and prisoner control. To disguise his Irish features, Anderson was wearing a balaclava over his cassock.

"Ten minutes out," informed the pilot. Lelouch drew his revolver and checked the ammunition one last time. He spun the cylinder reassuringly before placing it back in his shoulder holster.

Everything was set. The plan was made, contingencies prepared, and operatives were moving into place.

So why couldn't he shake the feeling that something was wrong?

* * *

Akari Onmyojo carefully placed the flame against the paper, waiting until she saw the barest hint of smoke and immediately put the lighter out. Lighter fluid was too precious a commodity for wasteful use.

The gloomy, abandoned tenement she and a few others resided in seemed lonelier than it had in a long while. Her son Tetsuo had gone off to join the Heirs of Nobunaga, or the Black Knights as she heard they were now called.

"Good morning, Mrs. Onmyojo."

She turned from her slowly-catching fire to smile softly at Hirito, who stepped slowly through the broken hole in the wall that used to separate their apartments. The aging man was a relic of times past, a tiring but still-kicking workhorse with a few good years left in him. He'd been foreman at a steel mill before the invasion. Now, he served as the closest their block had to a police officer, protecting the widows and their children that resided there from the more predatory residents of the ghetto.

When the call had come to join the resistance, like many of the ghetto residents he had been forced to deny it. Their infrastructure was far too tenuous to have all the men go off and fight a war they might not win. Only those without jobs and with little to lose had gone off to serve the resistance. Those like her son.

Wispy tendrils of smoke filled the cool air as the cooking fire finally lit up fully, soaking into the scavenged wood and emanating a glowing warmth. "What's cooking?" asked Hirito.

Akari pressed a hand to the light bun that kept her graying hair out of her thin face, before nodding towards the wooden crate leaning against the wall. "Britannian army rations. Last of the batch from that truck they robbed last month. Would you like some?"

"Please," Hirito chuckled, pulling up a worn cushion at the splintered table. "Slim pickings this week," he explained. That was sort of the deal with him. He provided security for the block, and dropped by for the occasional meal when he didn't have time to scavenge something for himself. It wasn't something he really demanded, but the widows like Akari living in the tenement liked to show their appreciation when they could. Honorable men were so rare these days.

Quickly heating the pre-prepared meal over the cooking fire, Akari hummed a soft tune to herself. She couldn't even recall the lyrics anymore, but it was a song her mother had used to sing. It was always calming.

"How's Tetsuo?" asked Hirito conversationally.

Akari smiled sadly. "I haven't heard from him since he and the others marched off to the old base. We were told that, for the sake of training, our boys would have to refrain from contact until they were deployed. I know we owe so much to Zero, but I wish he'd go easier on them."

Indeed, the sounds of rifle practice and barking instructors from the occupied Purist base were nearly constant. The towering walls kept the curious denizens of the ghetto from peering in, but it was clear that the recruits were being mercilessly drilled.

"It's probably for the best," assured Hirito. "Think of it this way: the harder they're worked, the better their odds when the fighting starts. Better to sweat in peace than bleed in war. Zero's just looking out for them."

"I know. I know. It just hurts. I kept him safe through the invasion, the occupation, the pacification, and now I have him just a few miles away but out of reach. Being trained to fight."

Hirito laid a comforting hand on her arm. "You know me, Akari—I'm cynical even if the best of times, but I have faith in Zero. He'll look after Tetsuo and all the others."

The widow nodded solemnly, before her face turned teasing. "Faith? You? What on earth did Zero do to earn that from a stoic like yourself?"

Chuckling, the old man smiled. "I watched the address he gave to the resistance cells at their recruitment. To be honest, I was considering signing on myself, but when I saw the turnout I figured they wouldn't miss one old man. Still though, it was... invigorating. I remember seeing the old Japanese Emperor on tv, and he didn't have half the sheer _magnitude_ that Zero did when he was giving that speech. I'm not easily moved, but Zero was just... larger than life."

Akari snorted. "Aren't you a bit old for a crush?"

Throwing his hands up in the air, Hirito glared goodnaturedly. "Fine then. I open the door a crack and you shoot me with a water pistol. I see how it is."

The pair laughed, before sitting in comfortable silence for several minutes as Akari tended to the meal.

The rations finished cooking, and she laid the heated tins on a frayed towel before carrying them to the table. This was the last of her food stockpile. It seemed she'd be spending the rest of the morning seeing if she could scrounge up something edible in the woods beyond the perimeter wall. At least with the Purist base gone, there wasn't a risk of getting shot anymore.

She had just lifted her chopsticks to begin eating when there was a light but rapid knocking at the door. Hirito immediately stood. "I'll get it," he said, fingering the pistol tucked into his waistband. Unexpected callers were a rarity in the ghettos. Better safe than sorry.

The aging workman crept up to the busted peephole, his coarse salt-and-pepper hair shimmering in the inconsistent light. "Who is it?"

"Ani Hana, from three over."

Hirito straightened and opened the door. "Mrs. Hana," he greeted politely, bowing slightly at the waist in recognition of an elder, "lovely to see you. I was about to start breakfast with Mrs. Onmyojo. Would you like to come in?"

The white-haired grandmother shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't have time. I was just dropping by to let you know that there's something going on at the old community center. A group of trucks rolled in there about twenty minutes ago, just like the ones from three nights ago and the ones at the base. I don't know what's going on, but I'm making a round of the block just to make sure everybody is informed."

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Hana," smiled Hirito. "This block has to stick together, right?"

She smiled back toothlessly. "Aye, or else we prove ourselves to be everything the Purists say we are."

Bowing briefly, the woman moved on to the next apartment. Hirito shut and bolted the door before seating himself once again at the table and taking a measured bite of fried spam.

He chewed deliberately, before swallowing. "What do you figure's going on down there?"

"I don't know," Akari shrugged. "It's against my nature to be optimistic, but if its the same trucks as three nights ago, I can't imagine it's anything bad." Hirito scooped some powdered egg into his mouth before nodding in agreement.

"True. Best be safe though. I'll head down and check it out after we're finished here. Once I figure out what's going on, I'll let everyone else back here know."

Akiri nodded slowly, appreciative and unsurprised. That was Hirito. Always the first into the breach for the sake of his neighbors. Oftentimes she was glad he'd never signed on with any of the resistance groups. She wasn't sure what their block would do without him.

* * *

Suzaku perked up for the first time in an hour as he finally spotted a large cargo plane flying precariously low through the mountains. Britannian radar systems were spotty, which meant that so long as you flew sufficiently low and at the right angle you were practically invisible.

His hands tapped impatiently on the console of his Burai Kai. He silently prayed for _anything_ to go wrong. Ever since that whole 'Zero' debacle, he'd been itching for something to blow off steam—as the sparring ring was no longer doing it for him. He heard Todoh's voice in his head counseling against such bloodlust, but he couldn't help it. As a follower of Bushido, he lived and died by his code. To have it insulted in such a manner...

It was beyond the pale.

Around him, Todoh and his Four Holy Swords moved their frames into guard positions. A group of privates popped signal flares at the back corners of the grassy runway, waving them to mark the end of the landing strip.

The hum of enormous engines grew audible through his Knightmare. At least he now knew that when the time came, he'd be able to obliterate anything Zero threw at him.

The Guren MKII. Easily the most advanced Knightmare ever produced. And it was going to be _his_. He may not have like the Chinese, but they certainly knew how to deliver a bribe.

With a jerking squeal, the cargo plane touched down and slowly decelerated a stop less than twenty meters from the trees at the end.

He pulled the eject lever of his Burai, and the cockpit shot backwards to permit him egress. Less than a second later, Todoh's popped open. Master and apprentice descended to the ground, intent on receiving the pseudo-diplomatic envoy.

Hydraulics hissed as the rear of the plane opened and a ramp lowered. What emerged was... frankly rather lackluster. Painted a garish red, with contrasting orange highlights, a Knightmare frame slowly rolled out onto the grass. It looked horribly unbalanced, one of its arms grossly larger than the other and painted an odd chrome. Bushido was all based around the idea of balance, but this frame seemed to stand in contrast to that.

It halted, and the cockpit slid out. A tall Indian woman with fair brown skin and bright blonde hair lowered herself down on a winch.

"Greetings," she said pleasantly in accented Japanese. "Kyoshiro Todoh and Suzaku Kururugi, yes?"

"Indeed," answered Todoh, bowing formally. The woman matched it and after a brief moment so did Suzaku.

Straightening up, she smiled at the young samurai. "Rakshata Chawla, at your service now I suppose. A mother must care for her child, after all."

She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and retrieved a red Knightmare key, which she handed to him. He lifted it towards his face, inspecting it for a brief moment before placing it in his own pocket. Well at least it was better than a Burai. Of _that_ he had been assured.

"She's all yours now. Damage her though, and I'll have your balls for conversation pieces."

Suzaku froze mid-step, before dismissing the woman's words. What was it with eggheads and eccentricity? Every single engineer on base cared far too much about the machinery they worked on as well.

He got three steps towards the frame when there was a distant cough and his knee exploded.

* * *

Lelouch was pissed.

'A pair of Burai frames and two squads of infantry' he had been told. Instead, the entire command echelons of the JLF were armed up in defensive positions around the clearing. Todoh, Kururugi, and the Holy Swords, all in their custom Burai Kai frames. He recognized the style and markings.

He was about to write the whole operation off as an outright ambush when he saw a cargo plane approaching.

Damn it. That meant there probably _was_ a seventh-generation frame inbound. That, or Sumeragi was trying to bait him into attacking the JLF as part of some personal scheme. He couldn't afford to pull back and reassess the situation either. If the frame was real and made it to the JLF bunker, it was lost to him forever.

" _Zero here_ ," he addressed over his commbead. " _Security's much higher than expected. Todoh, Kururugi, and Holy Swords on scene. Repeat: Todoh, Kururugi, and Holy Swords on scene. Unknown whether targets are inbound. Prepare for ambush, but do not engage until I give the signal. Repeat: do not engage until I give the signal._ "

He received a chorus of affirmatives as the sniper team opened the side door of the helicopter to lay down. After deploying his bipod, the shooter stared down the barrel of his scopeless rifle, relying on his cybernetically-magnified vision to see his targets. The spotter produced a pair of binoculars and began rattling off environmental conditions.

The plane touched down, and after a second both Todoh and Kururugi emerged from their Knightmares. "I have a shot, Master," informed the sniper instantly.

"Negative," he replied. At the moment, he needed the JLF as a juicy steak to dangle before Carine and her dogs while he built his army. Taking out their commanders would almost certainly cripple them irrevocably, and they would wither away before their use was fulfilled.

Todoh and his apprentice moved across the strip to where the plane was. The rear ramp opened, and Lelouch's breath was taken away. Sleek, elegant, angular—a Knightmare emerged. It was painted a bloody crimson, with a wicked and deadly-looking silver claw forming one arm. It loomed over the airfield like a crouching lion. _This_ was what a seventh-generation frame should look like. It was perfect for Kallen.

The frame halted and a light-haired Indian woman emerged to converse with the two soldiers. They bowed, and after a brief exchange she tossed Kururugi a key. He pocketed it and stepped towards the frame.

"His knee," he instructed the Shadow. "Take it out."

Instantly, the brown-haired boy collapsed with a scream.

" _Move in!"_ he called over the commbead. " _Watch your fire. Todoh, Kururugi, and Chawla are out of bounds. All else are expendable._ "

Six Knightmares sprung from the low undergrowth surrounding the clearing. The Holy Swords immediately backpedaled, caught off guard by the sudden ferocity of the ambush. In their custom Sutherlands, his forces laid into The Miracle Worker's bodyguards.

* * *

" _Move in!_ "

That was all Kallen needed. Exhaling steam through metal lungs, she burst from the trees with her assault rifle raised. Jeremiah and the Irregulars formed a wedge behind her as she took the vanguard position.

The though of killing fellow Japanese hadn't really occurred to her when she'd sworn herself to Master Lelouch, but she'd admit that the JLF deserved it.

Arrogant. Elitist. Ironically, they and the Purists shared quite a few qualities. The primary diverging factor was that at least the Purists were competent. The JLF's 'operations' consisted of little more than distributing propoganda, broadcasting pirate radio, and the rare bombing on the handful of Britannian outposts surrounding the Tokyo Settlement. The resistance cells paid them lip service, but she knew that deep down, loathing bubbled beneath the service.

But those were the concerns of the old Kallen Kozuki. Their gravest crime now was standing in the way of her Master's goals. For that, they would suffer.

She breathed out once more, and let the familiar red fill her vision—bathing the world in a crimson glow.

Her custom targeting system highlighted the enemies in her field of view. The closest Burai spun in an attempt to bring its rifle to bear, but with a twitch she fired her Slash-Harken and blasted the weapon to pieces.

Panic radiated from the backpedaling frame. It slashed with its sword in a move to make her back off, but she flicked her wrist and deployed her stun tonfa, stepping inside the enemy's guard and batting the arm away. An elbow swiftly followed, denting the Burai's chestplate.

' _Damn_ ,' she thought. Against a Britannian Knightmare, that move would have triggered the emergency eject. It seemed that these Burai frames were more than remodeled Glasgows.

In her peripheral, she saw Gottwald and the Irregulars rush past her to engage the others.

Her Master's Knight, in his custom Sutherland 'Praetorian', strafed the infantry with his shoulder-mounted anti-personnel machine gun, shredding them completely. The Irregulars kept their distance and attempted to wolfpack the remaining frames—focusing their fire to pick them off one at a time.

The frame Kallen was locked with wisely disengaged as its compatriots covered it. A bolder, more aggressive frame took its place and Kallen gladly accepted the challenge.

* * *

"Damn it!" cried Chiba as she narrowly deflected a blow from a stun tonfa. This was bad. This was _really_ bad. An ambush from six unknown custom Sutherlands, with Kururugi down and Todoh out of his frame.

She swung high with her revolving blade sword while attempting to slip in a low burst in from her assault rifle. The enemy nimbly ducked and spun to the left, using the movement to power another hammer-like blow that forced Chiba backwards and into another enemy frame's line of fire. Urabe saw her distress and forced the frame to back off with a suppressive blitz of KMF rounds.

Senba's voice fizzled over the radio. " _Should we pull back_? _We're going to be overrun any second now._ "

" _The General's still out there!_ " Asahina retorted from where he was unsuccessfully grappling one of the apparently-stronger frames. He ended up with a glancing blow across the chestplate for his trouble.

" _We've only got one choice!_ " called Urabe as he use a Slash-Harken to fling himself from the path of an overlapping field of fire. " _Spinning Life or Death Formation!"_

The Holy Swords' signature move. A four-pronged attack formation that had yet to be defeated. Breaking off and moving in an evasive pattern, they slowly began circling and isolating one of the enemy frames. It was painted black, with a white faceplate and red trimmings. Thus far, it had been the most aggressive and dangerous of their enemies, nearly taking out all of them at one point or another.

Shots pinged out all over the place as the five remaining frames tried assisting their encircled comrade, but the Holy Swords weren't the JLF's aces for nothing. They danced around the bullets and dodged the blows. Finally, they reached the needed speed and simultaneously lunged towards the center with blade pointed inwards.

It was an unbeatable assault. Knightmares simply didn't have the maneuverability to evade four simultaneous pinning attacks in close quarters.

Which is why the problem came when, in a last-second move that shouldn't have been _possible_ , the enemy frame contorted backwards like a gymnast—laying itself backwards almost completely against the ground and allowing the stabs to continue forward above it.

Moving too fast to stop, the Holy Swords continued forward and speared one another through the bases of their frames.

" _Fuck,_ " was all Urabe managed to say before all four of their cockpits ejected in unison, right as the Yggdrasil cores detonated in a fiery explosion that washed harmlessly over the center frame.

* * *

Todoh stared with wide eyes as the Holy Swords, his most elite pilots besides Suzaku, were defeated by a single machine. He'd trained them himself. He'd taken great pride in them. Yet they were felled almost effortlessly, in less two minutes.

It was the invasion all over again.

The enemy frames came to a halt, looming over him and his apprentice. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the end.

Instead, there was the thrumming of helicopter rotors. From less than two hundred meters away, a black transport helicopter came into view, and his eyes bulged further. How had he not seen it? How had it not come up on their radar?

With buffeting winds, the chopper landed in the center of the airstrip. The side door opened, and a figure emerged.

" ** _Zero_** ," he and his second-in-command growled simultaneously. Suzaku attempted to rise, but fell to the ground once more with a pained moan. The Chawla woman stepped back into the shadow of her machine, like a guilty child hoping to go unnoticed.

One of the Sutherland cockpits slid open, and its white-masked pilot descended to the earth. Zero motioned casually for her to join him, and she quickly jogged to join two others in flanking his shoulders. The first, an enormous brute in a balaclava and a black garment he failed to recognize. The second, a thin-framed woman donned in what seemed to be the standard uniform of Zero's people.

"Good evening, General Todoh," he said pleasantly, as if they were two old friends catching up. Todoh's hand instinctively clutched the katana at his waist, but froze when a Knightmare anti-personnel round thudded into the ground at his feet, showering him and Suzaku with dirt.

Zero shook his head scoldingly and clicked his tongue. "None of that now, General. The only reason I haven't already killed you is because, despite your horrid inefficacy, you're still a devout son of Japan. That buys you just enough favor to not eat a bullet. I wouldn't push it."

His black mask tilted up towards the Guren. "Beautiful machine," he remarked with the tone of one admiring a Rembrandt. "I knew my contacts in the Federation would earn their pay eventually, but I was not expecting _this_."

Todoh's mind immediately began racing. Someone in the Federation had sold them out? But who? It could be anyone. The number of people that formed the byzantine Federation bureaucracy was too large to find a single unusually-corrupt official.

"And Suzaku Kururugi," he said, stepping past Todoh to stand over the prone son of Genbu, "I must say I have heard quite a lot about _you_. Few good things, I assure you. The Guren key, if you would."

Suzaku merely glared at the revolutionary, nothing but pure hatred in his eyes. Zero sighed exasperatedly, drawing a revolver from his coat and aiming it at the boy's undamaged leg. "I could take the other knee, if that helps. You've already got a limp—don't make it any worse."

Fury radiating from his tightened and tense form, Suzaku slowly reached into his uniform pocket and produced the red key he'd been given. With a tilt of his hooded head, Zero motioned the giant at his shoulder forward to grab it. He leaned forward, and Suzaku saw his opening. Like a cobra, he struck at the brute's solar plexus with all his might.

White filled his vision, and pain coursed through his knuckles as though he'd punched a steel girder. He felt the unprepared bones in his hand shatter like glass. A ruthless backhand took him across the jaw, and his world went black.

"Saw that coming," remarked Zero's Knightmare pilot offhandedly.

Zero extended his hand, and the key was deposited into it. After inspecting it appraisingly, he turned and handed it to the girl who had just spoken.

"Ms. Chawla," he said expectantly, and hesitantly the Indian scientist emerged from the shadow of her creation.

His masked and hooded head tilted almost sincerely. "First, please allow me to express my deepest apologies for all this unpleasantness. You see, when the Federation sent you to deliver this frame to the most effective resistance group in Japan, they were using... outdated information. Permit me to introduce myself, I am Zero, supreme leader of the Black Knights."

"A pleasure," said Rakshata coolly, "but I'm afraid that I have express orders to give this frame to the JLF."

The revolver found itself aimed at her bindi. "I'm sure your superiors will be understanding. The code, if you would."

She eyed him warily, before shooting Todoh an apologetic glance. "Six-Two-Nine-Five-Eight-Seven," she rattled off, and the samurai looked at her with utter betrayal in his eyes. She averted her gaze. The pilot with the key quickly strode past the group and winched herself up to the Guren's cockpit. Seconds later, the machine roared to life.

Zero spun on his heel and moved towards the abandoned Sutherland. "We're done here. Todoh, I'd start applying pressure to Suzaku's leg. He's been gushing arterial blood for about three minutes now. A tourniquet would probably be in order if you don't want him to die. Ms. Black, Mr. Silver, ensure our guest reaches her new home safely."

Rakshata's eyes widened in alarm and the masked woman's arm shot out like, knifelike, to plunge a needle into her neck. Her body went limp, and the enormous man caught her before she could hit the ground. He tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of rice and began jogging back to the helicopter. From her position, she could faintly her the man's earpiece, where a voice was informing them that backup had been called.

Still pinned under the watchful gazes of five Sutherlands, Todoh could only glare murderously at the departing figures. Only once their master was safely cocooned in a Knightmare did the dogs break off.

He urgently dove and tore off his jacket, wrapping it tightly around Suzaku's steadily bleeding knee. The Black Knights rolled past him, and almost as if an afterthought, blew out the landspinners of his and Suzaku's Burai Kai frames.

The helicopter's rotors accelerated once more, and it took off in the direction of Tokyo. He mentally made note of it. Checking once more to ensure that the tourniquet was wrapped tightly around his apprentice's wounded leg, he dashed to his Knightmare. Winching himself up to the cockpit, he quickly switched the radio on and called for a medical extraction, along with a mobilization of soldiers.

The 'Black Knights' weren't out of the woods yet.

* * *

The streets of the Matsumoto ghetto were the busiest Hirito had seen them since the invasion. Were it not for obvious abject poverty of the people and their surroundings, it could almost have passed for the old Japan.

A curious throng were gathered outside the abandoned community center, where a pair of balaclava-wearing figures in military uniforms of no distinct nation were flanking the main door. They carried submachine guns he didn't recognize over their shoulders, but didn't seem to be actively threatening anyone at least. He noted that they weren't wearing gloves, however, and their skin was Caucasian.

Seeing that nobody was willing to brave an approach, he elected himself. He weaved through the crowd and crossed the No-Man's Land to the guards. They bristled slightly, but their guns remained on their backs.

"Hello," he began simply.

The guards exchanged glances, before one of them greeted back in heavily-accented Japanese. " _Bonjour._ Apologies for ze security. Zese ghettos are... _unsafe,_ I zink ze word is? Even worse zan ze refugee ones in France."

Frenchmen then, thought Hirito. But what were they doing here? "Mind if I ask what's going on? I'm sure you can see folks are a bit concerned. Unknown non-Japanese soldier types setting up in the ghettos. Doesn't bode well."

"Ahh. We're ze Wild Geese. We work for Zero."

Hirito blinked. Zero was doing this? Akari and the others needed to hear then. He thanked the mercenary and quickly disseminated the news into the crowd. The tension and nervousness turned into a slowly-building anticipation of what awaited them inside the center.

Jogging through the potholed and damaged streets, he made his way back to the apartment block. From there, the news spread like wildfire. By the time he got back to the community center, thousands were gathered outside the doors and more mercenaries had apparently been called in to keep order.

Suddenly, the doors to the center opened and several more soldiers stepped out along with a single Japanese figure in some manner of imposing black uniform, nothing like the handstitched uniforms most Japanese outfits used these days. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began in a calm, clear voice that immediately drew the silence of the crowd, "my name is Taka Yusuku, an agent of Master Zero—who many of you have heard is responsible for the destruction of the Purist bases and is now directing the new Japanese army, the Black Knights."

The throng mostly nodded in confirmation. _That_ piece of news had circulated quite well during the victory celebration, although the only word regarding the enigmatic figure since had been that he'd recruited every spare resistance fighter and was training them in the restored Purist bases.

"His aims extend further, including the construction of a new Japanese nation. The failure of the Six Houses has proven that the old Japan is dead, never to return. Thus, he is offering citizenship to his Neo-Japan, which shall bring order, peace, and prosperity to its people. Citizenship is purely voluntary of course, but it carries many benefits including meaningful employment in the reconstruction of the ghettos, and payment in the form of access to ration centers such as this one. As of today, this community center and others throughout both this ghetto and the five others will serve as government hubs and ration depots for the Neo-Japanese."

Excited murmurs began echoing through the crowd. A consistent food source in the ghettos sounded almost too good to be true. They went quiet as Taka continued.

"Citizenship is open to all. Once inside, clerks of the Black Knights will take down your personal details and backgrounds. Based on your applicable skills, you will be assigned a job in reconstructing the ghetto. Do not attempt to deceive the clerks. It will neither gain you anything nor end well."

He didn't convey any specific threat, but his tone sent shivers through the Japanese anyway.

"In exchange for your work, you will receive ration cards that can be redeemed at any depot to provide meals and other essential supplies for yourselves and your families. Those unable to physically labor will be assigned clerical work. Minors and those without a full highschool education will be assigned remedial schooling at a later date. Orphans under the age of thirteen will be transported to a secure facility, safe from the Britannians."

Hirito could actually respect that. They were essentially being paid to rebuild their own city, but the employment involved meant that it didn't feel like charity. Plus, moving the countless orphans fending for themselves somewhere safe from the war was commendable. This Zero guy... how far ahead had he planned this? Only two days since the Purists were ousted, and he was already setting up reconstruction and schools and even a new government?

The agent, Taka, motioned to the band on his left arm bearing a black and silver kite shield with a golden cross in the center. "These armbands serve as badges of office for Black Knights and their officials. If you see someone wearing one, know that they speak with Master Zero's authority."

One of the mercenaries stepped up, and Hirito noted that all of the mercs were wearing the armbands. "While the general soldiers are being trained in the new bases, these French mercenaries will keep the peace. If they give you an order, you obey them. If you have a problem, you go to either them or us. Simple enough?"

A simple chorus of agreement emanated from the crowd, satisfying the Black Knight.

"Wonderful. Please form an orderly line."

* * *

Kallen flew through the undergrowth, carefully limiting her speed so that Master Lelouch and the others trailing behind her could keep pace. Even without being 'jumped in', she could tell that this was easily the most deadly machine thing she'd ever piloted. The controls were a tad unfamiliar with the odd motorcycle-like pilot seat, but the basics were the same.

Her radio, tapped into the JLF's communication channel, was abuzz with furious orders and Knightmare mobilization. She knew the JLF were on home ground and would catch up to them before they could escape the mountains.

As if in response to her thought, Master Lelouch's voice crackled over the commbead in her ear. " _We can't use the primary extraction point if the JLF are still on us. Move to Zone_ _Alpha and initiate Plan Berlin_."

She grinned viciously. An ambush then. A slaughter.

It was time to see what this baby could do.

* * *

Every irregular beat of the heart monitor was like a knife in Todoh's chest. His apprentice, his protege, his... his son, lay on a cold gurney as masked army surgeons operated on his shattered knee and hand. His uniform was soaked crimson with Suzaku's lifeblood, still warm from carrying him in. They were unsure whether they would be able to save his life, let alone his leg.

The door creaked open behind him, and he heard four pairs of footsteps enter.

He heard four pairs of knees impact the floor.

"Sensei," breathed Chiba, shame and anger and disgrace filling her voice, "we have faile—"

"Find them," he ordered, not caring for the murderous edge that seeped his tone like dripping poison. A lifetime of Bushido counseled against such hate, but it was pushed aside. Just this once. Just this once he could let his control slip and allow nearly a decade of repressed fury loose. "Find them, and kill them. _All of them_."

He spared one last glance at the table before turning away. Nothing could be done here. He could not help.

He could only avenge.

* * *

Camouflaging earth shifted and crumbled as five parallel holes open themselves in the Narita mountainside. Suddenly, like shells fired from a Howitzer, Knightmares began shooting out in volleys—soaring hundreds of feet into the air and deploying heavy wingsuit-like hang gliders.

In the head of the formation, Todoh's knuckles whitened around the controls of his Burai. Their spotters indicated the enemy was moving towards the Southern exit to the mountains. If so, they'd have to move through Hottogeto Pass. With their glide attachments and knowledge of the terrain, they should be able to beat them there and prepare an ambush.

In his peripheral, the Holy Swords took up a triangular formation like birds in flight. Behind them, forty-five of the JLF's best pilots followed in a similar pattern. He had deployed every available pilot. Zero would _not_ slip through his fingers.

He shifted in his seat, and there was an odd stiffness in his jacket. Looking down, he realized that Suzaku's blood had dried thickly into the fabric and hardened. Temporarily locking the controls, he stripped it off and quickly crammed it into the small storage slot by his feet. Now that he'd noticed it though, the smell did not go away. It made him sick.

Movement caught his attention, and peering down he spotted the tail end of the 'Black Knights' breaking towards the pass. They were closer, but were forced to maneuver around trees and terrain.

Red slowly crept into his vision as it honed in on the pass. Almost without conscious thought, he opened up the private JLF channel. "Zero and his forces have proved themselves enemies of the Japanese with their actions. Give no quarter. Take no prisoners. An example will be made of them."

There was no hesitation as a series of affirmatives echoed back across his radio.

* * *

Lelouch and his guard rocketed towards Hottogeto as quickly as they could. He could just make out the black silhouettes of the JLF Burais against the morning sky, like a flock of geese in flight. With a flick of the controls his Factshpere zoomed in on the lead frame to take in the contraption.

Quite ingenious actually. From the specs he knew that the Burai was significantly lighter than the Sutherland, but he hadn't expected the JLF to find a way to capitalize on that. Beating the JLF to the pass would be a close call.

"Sancia, Alice, Dalque, Lucretia," he called over his commbead after a moment of consideration, "Kallen's our heavy hitter, but she's in an unknown, unfamiliar, and unrigged Knightmare right now, plus we're severely outnumbered. Use your discretion, Alice and Dalque in particular, but release restraint level zero."

He hoped this wouldn't backfire. While Geass and Meld did not usually mix, Asplund and Ashford has found something of a... workaround. Geass at its most base form was a mentally-borne ability, thus it was conveyed along the brain's electrical signals. Working from this angle, they'd developed an implement colloquially called 'Trodes' that permitted Geass to crudely interface with machines.

The chief limitation was that it could not provide feedback, keeping it from the lofty heights of something like a control rig. Additionally, for something like a Knightmare, the software would have to be individually programmed for the input of each specific Geass and wielder for the computers to make any sense of the brain signals. Thus, mass production was virtually impossible.

Still, as Lelouch's personal bodyguard, the Irregulars were deemed important enough to have Sutherlands specifically outfitted for their Trodes, and their abilities worked well in tandem.

Thus, the Furies were born.

He looked down at the sudden wealth of geographic and enemy information that began streaming over his HUD and chuckled at the unfairness of it all. For General Todoh, that is.

God did not play dice with the lives of men, nor did he.

* * *

Rubbing his stinging wrist, Hirito stepped back out into the streets. He peered out and boggled at the line, still hundreds long, stretching out the door. And he'd ended up in the back of the line when it had formed.

The process had been paced and efficient. A kindly Japanese woman had drawn him into a small cubicle-like tent and delivered an extensive list of upfront questions that he'd answered as best he could. There was no paperwork or disinterested employees like the bureaucracy he was used to. The woman had simply taken his information, consulted briefly with her laptop, and assigned him a job as a construction foreman.

It was a familiar role that he felt would be relatively simple. Construction wasn't his field, but the technical expertise would apparently fall to others. His job was managing the workers, which he was quite good at.

He'd then been given some sort of handheld computerized device and instructed in its use. It was designed to interface with CHIPs. Like the one she would be putting in his wrist.

With the lack of necessary infrastructure to properly manage the people he was taking under his wing, it seemed Zero was relying on the aid of technology.

Apparently, the Citizen's Host Identification Package, or CHIP, did a whole host of things. It served as ID, wallet, work manager, emergency tracker, and several other miscellaneous features.

The tracker component made him hesitate, thoughts of surveillance states setting off in his mind, but ultimately he agreed with Zero on its necessity. With the chaotic and relatively lawless ghettos, government functions like a manhunt or emergency rescue would be impossible without something like this. And by tying citizenship to the new work and rations, it virtually ensured that they were universal.

Not to mention, the woman who injected it had been very upfront about its functions. That won them points in his eyes. It would have been very easy to simply chip everyone and _then_ tell them about the trackers.

There was also the tacit implication that this Zero was essentially establishing himself as the new Japanese government. Once again, he understood its necessity. While the old Japan had been a constitutional empire with elected officials, it was undeniable that the current ghettos didn't need politicians, they needed a _leader._

 _And if there were a word to describe Zero, that would be it._

A man of decisive action, when Kyoto and the JLF talked. Hirito's kind of man. Most of Japan's kind of man, in fact.

Well, Neo-Japan now, he supposed.

* * *

When he was near enough to the treetops, Todoh flicked a switch that detached his frame's wingsuit. He plummeted further some twenty feet to the ground, but the hydraulic-reinforced legs managed to soak the impact with aid from the landspinners.

Unfortunately, three frames weren't so lucky, and buckled when they impacted the ground at such high velocity. Such aged frames, with makeshift maintenance meant that a few failures were virtually certain.

He and the rest continued on, leaving the crippled frames to RTB on their own. Any that could not keep pace would be left behind.

With a breakneck pace, they quickly reached the pass. It was a relatively small break in the mountains, but it was the sole opening on the Eastern end of the range. The clearing was about one hundred meters wide, with a long-abandoned highway stretching through it—now overgrown with the ravages of nature.

It was also completely empty of hostiles.

He breathed a sigh of relief. They'd beaten the enemy here.

" _Form up_ _!"_ he barked over the comms. " _Set up a perimeter, tight. If a single enemy gets through, I'll have the lot of you court-marshalled._ "

His men swarmed to follow his instructions, taking up defensive positions in any available cover. Soon, a curved line of KMF assault rifles pointed out towards the surrounding forest. The Holy Swords formed the outermost point of the curve, taking up position along the deserted road.

There were a few moments of tense silence. Todoh's blood pounded, his breathing came in shudders. He wanted death. He wanted the enemy to show themselves and be destroyed.

A flash of movement on the perimeter. " _Contac—"_ was all that made it across the radio before everything exploded into anarchy.

* * *

Lelouch watched in satisfaction as his Furies did their bloody work. Between Lucretia's ' _The Land_ ' and Sancia's ' _The Order_ ', they could quite literally see the enemy from miles off. Which meant that they could perfectly exploit gaps in the defense.

Thus, despite the heavily-defended perimeter, the enemy didn't even notice his bodyguards until they were locked in close-quarters. Alice in the _Megaera_ accelerated her frame until it was a blur of whirling stun tonfa blows and precise rifle fire. Dalque in her _Tisiphone_ took a far less nuanced approach, magnifying her frame's strength and bludgeoning anything in her path with her custom tungsten-alloy warhammer.

Sancia and Lucretia strafed along the edge, picking off weak and staggered targets while their more direct sisters occupied the enemy.

While Lelouch was no slouch, he wasn't really a particularly talented Knightmare pilot either, so Gottwald in his _Praetorian_ stayed by his side during the engagement. He'd drawn the heavy tower shield on its back and was now wielding it in tandem with his regular assault rifle.

The prince watched the enemy line waver, its out-of-practice soldiers unprepared for the Geass-enhanced ferocity of the assault. But ultimately, whenever it looked ready to collapse, five vexing frames would move in and reinforce the problem areas, forcing his Furies to back off or risk overexposing their abilities. They needed a final nudge before they would topple.

" _Kallen_ ," he instructed, flicking a few switches and forwarding her the IFF signal of an isolated enemy frame, " _you know what to do_."

* * *

At her Master's order, Kallen burst from her hiding place behind the JLF's line. Once it was clear that they would be beaten to the pass, Lelouch had given the order to use the Guren's superior speed to reach there first and set up behind the clearing. Being rather single-minded, the JLF hadn't set up a single rearguard.

Perfect.

She lunged from cover towards a Burai along the very edge of the defensive line. It had evaded the initial melee and was now desperately trying to keep its distance while aiding its fellows.

" _Attention, soldiers of the JLF_ ," she heard Master Lelouch broadcast over the hijacked JLF frequency, " _do not throw away your lives on a hopeless fight. You have the right to refuse suicide. F_ _urther conflict is futile. Only death awaits you. Might I direct your attention to the fate that awaits all who stay?_ "

Kallen flicked a cover off the button attached to the side of her right joystick. She'd been briefed on the Guren's abilities, and she was dying to give this one a test. Any demoralizing effect was just a bonus.

Her silver claw shot towards the terrified enemy frame and it attempted to backpedal away, but she pushed the joystick further forward and the arm extended several feet to ensnare its cockpit. The frightened pilot attempted to eject, but she had the cockpit pinned to the frame.

She drove the frame into the center of the enemy formation. Master Lelouch used his frame's superior Electronic Warfare system to jam her prey's radio on and broadcasting. His panicked blubbering filled the airway, reaching into each JLF frame.

Once her victim was in view of all, she pressed down on her joystick's trigger. Red, crackling light emanated from her claw and immediately the frame in her grasp began bubbling and distorting under the unnatural energies. The pilot shrieked in agony as he was cooked alive, the sound of his skin sizzling audible over the open channel. He screamed and sobbed and begged as his blood turned to steam. Kallen knew that little over a month ago, the sound would have horrified her.

Now, she relished it. It was the sound of an enemy of her Master dying. Painfully. It was justice made audible.

Finally, her radiation reached the Yggdrasil Core and the frame detonated in a crimson inferno. The flames licked the edges of her Guren, but it was designed to be unphased by point-blank explosions.

She released the smoldering husk and ejected a smoking shell from her gauntlet. Slowly, she spun to face the remaining JLF frames. Fire surrounded her blood-red frame, reflecting off the surface and lending her the visage of something born from the guts of Hell itself.

They turned and fled.

* * *

By God, thought Lelouch, it was a match made in Hell. The refined brutality of the Guren paired so beautifully with Kallen, he was sure it must have been fate. She was a demon given metal form. The enemy seemed to think so as well. He witnessed first-hand the vaunted discipline of the Japanese Liberation Front as they turned and routed at the sight of the Guren's terrible power.

Only five frames remained at the end. He emerged into the clearing, Gottwald covering him with his shield. The Holy Swords crowded around their general.

" _Zero_..." growled General Todoh over the radio. Lelouch could hear the familiar hatred in his voice. He could almost respect it.

" _General Todoh,_ " he replied pleasantly, receiving another furious growl in response. " _While I acknowledge that you feel obliged to stop me, I would point out that you are now outnumbered by superior frames and pilots, and my patience is limited. Withdraw, and you may live to try killing me another day."_

Surprisingly, the response came from one of the Holy Swords. " _You dare speak to the General like that, after all you've done?_ " shrieked an enraged female voice. The frame of Todoh's right loosed a pathetic volley of rifle fire that Gottwald easily soaked. He answered in kind with a burst that blew out the attacker's legs. Its ejection system triggered seconds later.

There was a moment of hesitation on the part of the JLF. Finally, Todoh's voice crackled over the radio once more. " _This isn't over_ ," he swore murderously, before circling around and fading back into the forest.

* * *

The image of Kallen granting fiery death to that JLF pilot wouldn't leave Lelouch's mind. Thus, when they finally made it back to the Bunker, she was his first priority. He met her as she emerged from the stolen Guren and simply crooked his finger. That was all she needed.

They rushed back to his office and he made his admiration clear. He dominated her until she was a quivering mess of putty on his couch—pliable to his every whim. But unlike Sayoko, every inch of her had to be _taken_ , like laying siege to her body. But at the end, that only made conquering her all the more satisfying.

After a satisfying hour, he reclined in his office chair as she lavished his member with her tongue. He instinctively opened his drawer and withdrew a cigarette, placing it in his lips. He lit it and let the comfortable smoke permeate his lungs. "Coming," he informed Kallen. With a low groan, he release into her mouth. Though inexperienced, she managed to swallow down his seed.

She rose slowly, and he placed a hand on her plump ass—drawing her to sit sideways on his lap. His other hand continued smoking the cigarette. Surprisingly, she plucked it for herself and took a drag. She coughed cutely, and he relieved her of it.

"Don't smoke, I take it?" he chuckled. She shook her head, still coughing, and he smiled. "Takes some getting used to. They make the afterglow fantastic, however."

Her face turned conflicted once more, and he ran a gentle hand through her perfect crimson hair. "Have you reached a decision regarding our earlier discussion?"

She quivered at his touch, but nodded. "I have. While it's not something I'd... usually consider, I also admit that I'm also very _inexperienced_ with these matters. I'm willing to... experiment with the others. At least give it a shot."

Lelouch grinned sideways. The hand toying with her hair wrapped around to reach her chin, drawing her in for a long kiss. "I'm glad to hear that. Blasé as it may sound, I can attest from personal experience that the more the merrier. You'll enjoy it, I promise."

"I hold you to that," she teased back.

He chuckled, and went back to stroking her hair. "I'm sure I've made it clear already, but you did very well today Kallen."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said honestly, leaning into his touch. "But aren't you worried about the JLF striking back at us?"

"Please," scoffed Lelouch, "the JLF couldn't plan a fucking picnic."

Kallen laughed, and he joined in with her. "And that Rakshata woman," she asked, "should we see to her?"

Lelouch glanced up at the clock above his office doorway. "Let her stew in the cells for another fifteen minutes or so. The longer she has to wait for my attention, the more valuable it will seem."

"Exactly how many of these tricks did you use on me?" she asked, although her tone was light.

"Quite a few," he admitted, burying his lips in the crook of her neck. "When it came to you, my dear, I was taking no chances."

She moaned softly as he assaulted her sensitive flesh. Her hand drifted down and slid through the front of his pants. "Well I don't want my Knightmare engineer to be resistant. Better make it thirty minutes."

* * *

When Kaguya awoke, the cold pressure of a gun barrel against her throat stilled her. Her gaze turned upwards to meet the frigid, unfeeling face of her new bodyguard Ryusei.

"Master Zero would like to know why you lied to him."

Consciously, she stilled her heartbeat and breathing. She knew that if this man doubted her for even a second, he would kill her without another thought. Thinking back to the lessons of her childhood, she did her best to project confidence and ease.

"I gave him all the information at my disposal. If any of it proved inaccurate, it is because changes were made as a result of the recent assassination attempt."

And how convenient that the mysterious assassination attempt placed this apparent agent of Zero within arm's reach.

The gun barrel pushed deeper into her windpipe, nearly choking her. "So I'm to believe that it's a mere coincidence that my master was led into an ambush by the information you provided?"

No. No no no no. "Did he survive?" she asked desperately. If Zero had died, Japan was doomed.

Ryusei analyzed her for a moment, before moving the gun away. She realized that she'd just inadvertently proved her loyalty.

"Yes, he did. But when he reached the landing strip you specified, it was occupied by General Todoh, Suzaku Kururugi, and the Four Holy Swords. He was forced to cripple Kururugi during the assault."

Deep down, Kaguya bemoaned the lost opportunity to be rid of her fiance. And now she'd have to listen to him whine even more about Zero and Bushido.

"I can only assume that with the hunt for a traitor within Kyoto, someone ordered the JLF to tighten security. Will the leak be traced back to me?"

Her bodyguard shook his head. "Master Zero led the trail to the Chinese end, not Kyoto. Your position is secure."

She breathed a sigh of relief. While she'd been prepared to burn her ties to the Six Houses if she was uncovered, she also knew that it was her best bargaining chip when it came to Zero.

"You have a meeting with the Houses tonight, yes?" asked Ryusei

Kaguya nodded. "It might be pushed up, with the theft of the Guren."

"Then we must be quick. Master Zero would like to meet with you. I'm to escort you there. Please dress in something suitable."

* * *

Lelouch, after cleaning himself up, made his way down to the detention block with Kallen at his shoulder. Jeremiah found him halfway there and took up his post on the other. The Warden saluted as he passed.

He reached the cell door and punched in the keycode. It slid open with a soft hiss. The room was spartanly appointed, with naught but a metal table and two chairs. A morose Indian woman was sitting in the chair opposite the door, her hand cuffed to it.

"Rakshata Chawla," he said slowly, stepping forward to loom over her. Confusion turned to dawning horror on her face as she recognized his voice.

" _Zero_ ," she whispered. Jeremiah planted himself in the corner of the room, pulling attention away from himself but staying within arms reach. Kallen followed his lead and took up in the other corner.

The corner of Lelouch's mouth twitched upwards. "Lelouch will suffice. But this little meeting is not about me, it's about _you_. What do you want?"

Rakshata blinked. "What?"

"What do you want," he repeated, carefully enunciating each syllable. "What does Rakshata Amba Chawla, Valedictorian at the Imperial Colchester Instutute, creator of the Guren MKII and Chinese ambassador _want._ What drives that questing brain of hers to put such love and care into developing such magnificent weaponry, only to be given as bribes to impotent little groups like the JLF?"

The woman scoffed, offense briefly overpowering her fear. "It wasn't exactly my choice. The Eunuchs fund my research, so they get to dictate what happens to the results."

"But why Knightmares?" pressed Lelouch. "A woman of your abilities could advance any number of scientific fields. You don't seem the patriot type, nor the greedy, so why build weapons?"

Rakshata blinked, caught off guard by the probing intensity of Lelouch's questioning. "I..." she stuttered, before surprising herself. "I thought years ago that if I built a weapon of sufficient power, I could end wars. That the fighting would end when someone won."

Lelouch's smirk stretched into a grin. He planted his hands on the table and leaned forward.

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

In the end, it was not all that difficult to bend Rakshata's ambitions to his ends. The woman held little love for the Chinese Federation, and once he'd called Thomas in to give her a briefing on Meld and the control rig, she was firmly in his camp.

He didn't even have to stretch the truth all that much. The fighting _would_ end when someone won. When _he_ won.

Once the meeting was over, he left Asplund and Soresi to give the woman her orientation. He imagined that she and Ashford would get along famously.

"Master," spoke a voice as he stepped from the room. He turned to see Sayoko standing at attention next to the doorway.

"Yes?" he asked.

"My Shadow confirmed that Sumeragi had no knowledge of the JLF's increased security. He believes that it was likely a result of Kyoto's new paranoia causing increased security. Given her proven loyalty, he is bringing her here as instructed."

Lelouch sighed. "No rest for the wicked."

His assassin smiled sympathetically. "Indeed, Master."

"Prep the board room, and initiate Masquerade Protocol."

Sayoko remained placid, but he knew that she was mentally raising an eyebrow.

"She has power higher than that given by her position in Kyoto, and I intend to see how well I can capitalize on it. So she gets the nice meeting room."

"As you say, Master," she said with a bow. He chuckled as she departed. That was the closest she usually got in 'work mode' to disagreeing with him. She was probably worried his harem would be getting a new addition.

And depending on how this meeting went, it might.

* * *

Kaguya adjusted her kimono for what must have been the sixth time since she'd arrived at... wherever this was. Her bodyguard had driven her here, blindfolded and earmuffed, and led her through a labyrinthine facility to this board room. Its only furnishings were a long, regal oak table, thirteen chairs, some odd symbol above the head seat, and a pitcher of water with two glasses.

Her kimono was an expensive thing, carefully arranged to display as much of her cleavage as was tastefully possible. She didn't want to throw herself at Zero like some sort of hussy, but at the same time she both wanted and needed to ingratiate herself to him. Provided that he was thinking at all along the same lines, he would pick up on it.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her freeze. She gave herself a final once-over, before rising to face the door. It opened a second later, and Zero strode in.

He was dressed immaculately, in a stylish black dress uniform with purple accents. Its hood was drawn up, and accompanied by his iconic black mask. She noted that his bodyguards remained outside the room, leaving her alone with him. A display of trust... and possibly something more.

"Lady Sumeragi," he greeted amicably, extending his hand. She reciprocated and he grasped it, bowing and pressing it to his mask in semblance of a kiss.

She didn't have to fake the blush that reddened her powdered cheeks. Mentally kicking herself, she curtseyed. It wasn't a Japanese greeting, but from what she'd gleaned thus far, Zero was actually more Western in his tastes. The kimono might have been a mistake. "Zero," she greeted back.

He arm swept out, gesturing towards the table. "Please, have a seat. May I offer you a drink?"

She shook her head. Given that he couldn't drink through his mask, having something herself would be rude.

The imposing revolutionary seated himself at the head of the table, and she took the chair on his left. "I'd like to start by thanking you for your information regarding the Guren MKII. Understand that a man in my position has to be careful with his trust. You have thus far proven yourself worthy of it."

"It was my pleasure," she replied, silently gritting her teeth. If she truly had his trust, none of the men she passed coming in would have been wearing masks. She'd have to take a risk. She slid herself closer to him, just on the border of intimacy.

"I'd like to be of... greater _use_ to you, Zero. In... any way you see fit."

She could feel his gaze move over her, judging, evaluating both her worth and intentions. "Let us be frank here, Lady Sumeragi. What precisely do you want? If all you wanted was not to go down with Kyoto, there are a hundred ways you could have done that. So why are you here?"

It was not a rejection. Just a reframing. She recognized the 'what do you want' tactic. It was a fundamental tenant of persuasion. And it was effective.

"I think we could do well. _Together_. I have the resources of Kyoto—"

Zero raised his hand. "Your resources hold little appeal for me. But you do have something I desire. You see, I am a man of great ambition. I have all the pieces in place to oust the Britannians from these shores and establish a new nation in its place. The only problem is that I lack a certain... _legitimacy_. Without revealing my identity, I cannot prove my ties to the old Japan, nor establish any symbolic or deeper right to govern the people. _You,_ however, are a Sumeragi. With the old emperor and his immediate family dead, I did some checking. Technically speaking, you _are_ heiress to the throne of Japan."

Sumeragi blinked. Was Zero really about to propose what she thought he was?

"I too believe that we could do well together. But in order to achieve that, I will need your name tied to mine in a more _permanent_ manner."

Kaguya looked at him incredulously. "You want to become Emperor of Japan? Shouldn't we form something a tad more... democratic?"

"Democracy?" laughed Zero bitterly, shaking his head. " _Democracy_. Democracy is not what these people need, hell, it's not even what they _want_. I think the European Union has demonstrated amicably by this point that democracy is a failed experiment. Miserable, greedy little cliques fighting among themselves, paying lip service to the 'noble' ideas of freedom and liberty while lining their pockets on the sufferings of their constituents. Give me a break."

He stood and began pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. Despite herself, Kaguya couldn't help but be drawn in by the sheer _gravitas_ of his rhetoric.

"If there's one thing Britannia's proven in all its tyranny, it's that people don't _really_ want freedom. They want boundaries and rules—protection… from invaders, and from themselves. People need a leader who can give them both the support and constraints to keep chaos at bay. You give them that, and they'll follow. And that's where I come in."

By the end he had both hands placed on the table and was leaning over it to peer down at Kaguya. She found herself utterly frozen, spellbound by the deep purple eyes behind that mask. She'd never been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

Zero seemed to compose himself, and re-seated at the head of the table. "The entire reason Britannia invaded, or their excuse at least, was that Japanese corporations—sponsored by the government—were hiking Sakuradite prices against Britannia as they prepared for war. They let their greed talk them into provoking a superpower."

"And once Britannia was posed to invade, Prime Minister Kururugi lied to the people about how safe they were—terrified of losing their approval by being blamed for the war. Democracy does not ensure _good_ rulers, merely _popular_ ones."

He lifted his hands up in a contemptuous gesture. "And look where it got us. No, the new Japan will have a government immune to the petty squabbling of democracy. I will lead it, and with your support, I will do so as Emperor."

Rising once more, he knelt at her side and took one of her hands in his own. They locked gazes, and Kaguya's heart seemed ready to burst from her chest.

"So I suppose my real question is: will you marry me?"


	11. Chapter 11: Fracturing

**And welcome back readers! Neolyph here with another chapter of Darwin! Great response last chapter. You guys have no idea how much your reviews help me work out the path of this story and gain the motivation to continue. This chapter was a tad short, but it was the most I could put, since the upcoming events are all better suited for the next chapter. I'll try to get it out quickly though, since I'm on a bit of a roll.**

 **Now, for reviews!**

 **fujin of shadows: That's kind of what I was going for. Despite how much he hates the man, Lelouch is nothing if not his father's son.**

 **Dany le fou: Well, Todoh especially I was trying to make sympathetic to highlight that Lelouch is far from a good guy. Suzaku will still be badass in a Knightmare, just balancing rage and a new, more controlled temperament. I actually was planning on a Rakshata/Thomas pairing, just for shits and giggles.**

 **soggy noodle: This chapter starts hinting at the oncoming shoe(s). It's coming, I assure you.**

 **The Coke-aholic: Basically. Lelouch is building up his own personal fiefdom, and he's going to use the best to do it.**

 **Tsuyoru Tatsuya: Thanks, it's really great to hear that. I'm trying to write a story that feels true to the Code Geass universe while still being original, and its always great to hear that I'm succeeding.**

 **Silent Lurker: Precisely. My gripes with Code Geass were always that the characters had so much potential for epicness, but let arbitrary shit keep them down. Part of what I wanted to do with this story was show the Code Geass world as it could have been. Appreciate the longer review, by the way. They're what help me nail down my strengths and weaknesses, narrative and style-wise.**

Chapter 11: Fracturing

"An audit? You must be joking!"

Vanderbilt did his best to look sheepish. "I'm afraid not, Duke Ashford. While most of this politicking is way above my head, I gather that some of the more influential lords of the Pendragon Court were making noise about favoritism and the like—what with your exclusive development and manufacturing contracts with the Crown. When His Majesty the Emperor ignored them, they pressured the Office of Financial Regulation to investigate you on some sort of trumped up charges."

The aging industrialist rubbed his temples in irritation. "Listen... Charley, was it?"

"Charles, my lord. Charles Conley. Named for His Majesty."

"Of course," said Reuben tightly. "Charles, this is a very inopportune time. We've got terrorists running amok in the streets, Eleven trash rising up in their ghettos, attacks on the Settlement itself, nobles being assassinated in their own homes—the list goes on. My accounting is a mess right now keeping up with all the heightened security and supporting the Vicereine. If you could just come back in a few months once this has all blown over, I would greatly appreciate it and my accounts would be much easier to inspect."

Robert shook his head. "I'm afraid that's impossible, my lord. These orders come from OFR Director Thomas himself. I promise that my men and I will be as quick and understanding as possible. We just need a look at your books."

"Let me have my legal team see that warrant of yours, purely for my own safety of course, and provided there's no way of putting this off I'll set an appointment for you to meet with my accounting department."

Vanderbilt nodded understandingly. "Naturally. Here's my card. Just give me a ring as soon as possible. I don't want to draw this formality out any longer than it has to."

"Nor do I," agreed Reuben firmly, rising to show the man out.

He waited until the door clicked shut before swearing and drawing an encrypted cellphone from his pocket. The number he dialed answered immediately.

"Kewell, we have a problem."

* * *

" _Kewell, we have a problem._ "

'Now this was interesting,' thought Vanderbilt as he listened in on the bug he'd planted in Ashford's office. It had been more of a habit than an active attempt to gain real intelligence. When the Emperor had ordered him to investigate Ashford, he hadn't expected anything to come of it. By his estimate, the old man was simply an extremely powerful Britannian industrialist. Yet it seemed that there _was_ something going on.

" _We're being audited._ "

" _Not sure. The man said that some lords from Pendragon were complaining to the Emperor about 'favoritism', but neither the Shadows nor my own agents have reported anything._ _Something's fishy._ "

Damn. He should have anticipated a man of Ashford's immense influence to have ears in the Pendragon Court. Especially given his many enemies. But shadows?

" _No, no. No reason to bring him in to this yet. He's got enough on his plate as is and I don't want to bother him with something potentially inconsequential. If my legal team can't squirrel or bribe my way out of this, I'll bring it up at the next meeting._ "

" _Like I said, I'll handle it. Give His Highness my regards._ "

His Highness? So Ashford was in bed with a prince, likely in something clandestine. Schneizel, perhaps? The Prime Minister was one of the few royals with enough pull to ally with a force like the Ashford Consortium. The Prince did have his Camelot project operating in this area, so perhaps he also had something off-the-books going with Ashford? A lot of the more ambitious royal children managed little side-projects under the Emperor's nose. Or at least, so they thought.

He'd normally put a tail on the man, but considering that virtually everything within three miles of Ashford's tower was owned by him and guarded by the elite Ashford Security PMC, he didn't like any spy's chances.

Well, it would certainly be something to look for during the audit.

From there, the phone call ended and Ashford's attention turned to calling his legal team. Standard corporate defense talk. No Britannian corporation was purely on the up-and-up, so any sort of audit meant a loss as _something_ was uncovered. Nothing particularly incriminating was discussed though, merely ways to get out of or stall it. Fortunately, the audit was bulletproof. Once his analysts got a look at those books, he'd be able to track down any discrepancies.

And if he smelled treason, he'd bury the man.

* * *

Kaguya's mind raced as she boggled at the imperious, stony mask of Zero. In the debating chamber of her mind a dozen emotions got to their feet and started shouting. Confusion was in full spate when Shock cut in on a point of order and then Bewilderment, Terror, and Hesitance started a fight which was ended only when Elation skipped in from next door to see what all the row was about.

"Yes!" she shrieked ecstatically, leaping into Zero's arms and wrapping him in an embrace. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

The revolutionary stumbled backwards at the sudden leap. "You're certainly... _enthusiastic_. You understand that this is a political marriage, yes?"

"Of course," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "But a marriage is a marriage. And _that's_ what matters."

Zero grabbed her under the shoulders and gently lifted her off him. His voice turned slightly stern. "Listen, Kaguya. If I'm reading you correctly, you're looking for more than protection in this arrangement. While that will likely come some day, at the moment the mask doesn't come off, so any sort of... deeper relationship is off the table."

That finally dumped the metaphorical bucket of water of Kaguya's head, and she quickly composed herself—feeling rather silly. "Yes, certainly. I will endeavor to earn your trust, my darling fiance."

She got the impression that he was smiling under his mask. "Careful with that. I know what happened to your last 'darling fiance'."

"Oh but dear Suzaku never got down on one knee and asked me to be his empress."

"Then he's a fool," said Zero charmingly, before his masked gaze shifted upwards towards the clock and he managed to convey a grimace. It was amazing the breadth of facial expression he could pull through a hood and featureless black mask. "I'm afraid I must cut this short. Do you have anything you need to tell me?"

She thought about it for a moment, before straightening up. "The day you took over the Purist bases, the Houses ordered me to pick the most likely target for you to strike next. I told them you'd go after the Marianne vi Britannia Naval Base, since I knew you probably wouldn't. I hope that was okay."

He chuckled darkly, though she was unsure why. The sound sent a shiver down her spine. "That's perfectly alright. If there's nothing else, I'll have your bodyguard drive you home now."

Kaguya shook her head, knowing better than to push her luck. "When can I see you again?"

Zero placed a hand on the small of her back, softly guiding her towards the door. "In due time, my empress. After all, I doubt darling Suzaku would approve of you seeing another man. He strikes me as the jealous type."

The door opened and she found Ryusei standing there stiffly, next to two more of Zero's masked minions. She noted that all three stances were identical.

"If there is anything urgent, your bodyguard will serve as your means of getting in touch with me. Just keep your head down and resume business as usual."

He took up her hand once more and pressed it to his mask. "And with that, my empress, I bid you good day."

* * *

"That went well," said Sayoko pointedly as she followed him down the corridor. He knew she'd been listening at the door. She always did when attending him, unless he explicitly ordered her not to.

He glanced back in her direction and sighed. "We've already had this discussion, haven't we? Must I fetch my belt?"

"No, Master," she replied contritely, bowing her head slightly. He let her stew for several paces before relieving her.

"Chin up, Sayoko. I do have good news. A certain redhead has seen the light, and is willing to share."

He noticed a slight lightness enter his assassin's step. "Shall I inform Lady Ashford?"

"If you wish. As a reward for all your hard work, you may take any of us you desire to bed. Just let me know your decision before tonight. By the way, do you know where Mao is? I still haven't heard her report of Diethard's interrogation."

Sayoko shook her head. "Her room, most likely. You know she doesn't really get along with most of the base staff."

"The price of her ability," he shrugged. "She sees the worst in people."

"But not you."

Turning, he gave her his best roguish grin. "Sayoko, my love, don't you know? I don't _have_ a worst."

* * *

 _"_ _Cowards! The lot of you!_ "

Like a streak of icy fire, Todoh stormed through the JLF bunker. Privates and officers alike scattered from his path as he marched to his office. The room was appointed with bare necessities, little but a desk, a computer, and several filing cabinets. Not cheap, necessarily, but the office of someone who despised clutter.

Never before had he felt so impotent. Not when the Britannians stormed his nation's shores. Not when he received the order to stand down. Not even when his mentor Genbu was slain by the enemy.

He carefully locked the door behind him, and let his rage loose.

Papers flew, drawers were thrown, the framed map of Japan on his wall was ripped in half. In all honesty, he eventually lost track of the damage.

Next he knew, he was hunched in the center of a paper whirlwind, his breath coming and going in rapid bursts. Finally, he managed to leash his anger. His heart slowed, and shame filled him. Bushido was worthless if it was abandoned at its first true test.

Consciously breathing in and out, he began cleaning up his office. He could not fix everything, but he could fix this. Papers were reorganized. Drawers were replaced. Cabinets were righted. The rest would unfortunately be left to the Maintenance staff.

A good hour had passed between the deconstruction and rebuilding. He changed into a clean uniform and made his way to the medical wing.

"How is he?" he asked, never dreading the answer to a question more.

Suzaku lay pale and sleeping on the gurney, the heart monitor pulsing steadily this time. The doctor lowered his head, and Todoh's heart sank.

"Stable, sir. Unfortunately, that's the only good news. The bones in his hand have been set, but there was nerve damage from the bone shards. We're unsure as to whether he'll ever regain full use of it. His knee is a lost cause. The bullet that hit it was a high-caliber hollow point, designed to destroy flesh and bone. It's a miracle he even lived, given the amount of blood he lost. We managed to save the leg, but he'll walk with a cane the rest of his life."

"I see," Todoh ground out between grit teeth. He had never held such hatred for another human being. Not even Emperor Charles. "Will he still be able to pilot a Knightmare?"

The doctor seemed to consider this for a moment. "If I recall my Knightmare test, one could theoretically work the pedals with just a single good leg. Might be tricky, but I know Lord Kururugi has it in him. I imagine he'll find a way, sir."

"Good. Call me if he wakes up. I have to inform his fiancee."

He grimaced at the thought of a talk with Lady Sumeragi. Even as a girl she had been... precocious. He found her engagement to Suzaku excessive, but it had been the will of the Houses. Suzaku was far more devoted to her.

While the Six Houses knew the innocent, keen young woman she now presented herself as, Todoh had known her since she was a child. As young Suzaku's sensei, Todoh remembered that she often used her more developed intellect to toy with the Kururugi boy's literal and straightforward way of thinking during their time together at the Kururugi Shrine.

No, Lady Sumeragi struck him more as the sort to form the wife figure in a political power-couple. Manipulative, cunning, and ruthless—balanced with a strong sense of devotion and cloaked in a boisterous demeanor. Like a pitbull that might be a lifelong companion, but was more likely to rip your throat out. To someone as... _earnest_ as Suzaku, he hoped that she would be able to fill out her husband's weaknesses, but he secretly feared she'd take advantage of him somehow.

Sighing to himself, he went back to his office and picked up the phone. After consulting the emergency number card hidden in his drawer, he punched in Lady Sumeragi's private number and pressed the receiver to his ear. It rang four times before it was answered. He could hear the muffled sounds of a car in the background.

" _Yes?_ " asked a cheerful, feminine voice. In fact, it sounded positively _glowing_.

He cleared his throat. "Lady Sumeragi?"

" _Speaking._ "

"It's General Todoh, my lady. There's been an incident."

A gasp followed, and he had no idea if it was genuine. Internally, he cursed himself. Reading people had never been a talent of his. " _What's happened?_ " Kaguya demanded frantically. " _Is darling Suzaku alright?_ "

"He is stable, my lady. During the receipt of the Guren MKII, we were ambushed by Zero and his forces. They made off with the machine, and Suzaku was shot in the knee. He also suffered a broken hand, but that should heal with minor difficulties. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for his leg."

There was a heavy silence for several seconds, before the voice came back. It had taken on a lower edge, and seemed a decade older. " _How bad is it_ _?_ "

Despite himself, Todoh swallowed. _This_ voice was the true Kaguya Sumeragi.

"The doctors aren't fully certain yet. He'll live, that they know, but they say he'll never use that leg again. His hand's got some nerve damage, but they won't be able to tell the extent until he wakes up. He's in an induced coma, at the moment."

Several more seconds of silence, filled by naught but the ticking of the clock and the background sound of Kaguya's car. " _I'm coming down there_ ," she said finally.

"Lady Su—" he began in protest, before a tone of pure ice cut him off.

" _I'm coming down there_." It was not a request.

"Yes, my lady."

* * *

Hanging up the phone, Kaguya rapped twice on the divider between herself and Ryusei. Although, she now doubted that was his actual name. They had reached the point in their drive that she was permitted to take off her blindfold and earmuffs. The divider slid open silently.

"Your Majesty," her driver acknowledged, meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror. Despite herself, she shivered a bit at the title. That's right. She was going to be an Empress. _Zero's_ Empress. Fireworks were going off in her head, but she resisted the urge to squee.

"New destination," she ordered. "We're headed to the Narita Mountains."

"As you command, Your Majesty."

The divider closed once more, and she used its reflective surface to fix her appearance. It had to convey the right combination of grief and fury. While the Houses were all fooled by her more _childish_ traits, Todoh knew the rest of her. If she didn't perfectly convince him with her act, he might take it upon himself to voice his suspicions to her colleagues. And while they were fooled now, in their current state they would take the barest _hint_ of an accusation as outright proof.

Honestly, she wished Zero had just put Suzaku down. The death of her fiance, she could deal with in private—isolating herself in 'grief'. A crippling injury however meant that she had to be _supportive_ of the insipid samurai. She'd have to sit by his bedside, listen to him rant and rave. Pretend she didn't want to smother him with a—

She shook her head in an effort to clear it. If she went down that rabbit hole, she'd still be in it when she got to Narita.

Her usual self would just put Todoh on guard. Selling this would require enough of a peak behind the curtain to satisfy his initial suspicion, while playing the part of protective fiancee well enough to shame him for whatever suspicion was leftover. She knew the old warrior couldn't read someone to save his life, which made this a simple matter of saying and doing the right things.

She'd prove to Zero that she had more to offer than just her name.

* * *

Lelouch had just tapped on Mao's door when a pair of hands covered his eyes. Two familiar mounds pressing into his back revealed the identity of their owner.

"Shall I take a guess?" he asked, amused.

He heard Mao huff. The hands moved to spin him until he was looking down at his adorable interrogator. "Not about me, silly. About the surprise I got you!"

"Oh?" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "A surprise?"

The mind-reader nodded eagerly. "I wanted to show I was sorry for breaking the rules yesterday, so I got you something. Come here, it's this way. No peaking, or you'll ruin it!"

Obligingly, Lelouch closed his eyes and let Mao lead him through the facility. He had a fair sense of direction, and by his rough estimate she was leading him somewhere into the detention level.

A door slid open with a quiet hiss, and the harsh lights of an interrogation room pierced through his eyelids.

"Alright, open them!"

Lelouch opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the glare. His vision took a few moments to focus, before he found himself staring face-to-face with... Diethard Ried. The media man was in a horrid state. His eyes were low and sunken in, his clothes sweaty and wrinkled, but his face was twisted into a worshipful smile.

Immediately, he knew what Mao had done. It was something they'd experimented with during the early days of Fulcrum when they were still puzzling out the mysteries of Geass. Personally, he found it rather distasteful. Not really due to the whole 'free will' issue—he was hardly one to be throwing stones in that area—but simply because such a brute force method lacked a certain... _elegance_. Especially when compared to some of the far more subtle tricks he'd learned with his own Geass.

But little Mao had gone through all the trouble of re-wiring this man just for him. It was cute, like a small child making a crayon drawing for their beloved older sibling.

"I love it," he said, turning to beam down at Mao—who had been watching him anxiously. Her face lit up, and he simply couldn't hold anything against the girl.

She wrapped around his upper torso like a limpet, and he tussled her purple hair fondly. Still holding her tight, he looked up towards the cell camera where he knew the Warden was watching and listening. "Have him cleaned up and indoctrinated, then turn him over to Sayoko. I'm sure she'll find a use for him."

Diethard's manic grin didn't so much as twitch when he and Mao turned to depart. Lelouch shivered. He'd never known that the Uncanny Valley could apply to a living person. Still, a media man like Ried ought to be useful for P.R, so long as he was kept on a tight leash.

"Did you pull anything useful from his mind?" he asked.

Mao shook her head. "Clearance codes, embezzling, and a list of the Vicereine's lovers, but little we didn't already know or couldn't find for ourselves."

"Hmm," Lelouch hummed. That was... actually quite surprising. He'd have thought there were a lot of dirty secrets in Carine's regime. Or at least, ones that the Emperor might care about. He shrugged. "Well, it was a long shot and ultimately cost us nothing. And thanks to you, we've gained an asset in the meanwhile."

"Does that mean...?" she asked shyly.

He smiled softly. "If you want. I'm satisfied you've learned your lesson."

The mind reader beamed, and dragged him back towards her room.

* * *

"MOVE YOUR ASSES!" screamed the Kill Hat as Tetsuo crawled through the mud. Machine gun fire thundered above him, only inches higher than the barbed wire he was crawling under. Another load of animal guts were thrown down on him and the others, soaking them in gore.

As desensitizing tactics went, he'd say it was effective.

"There is only one sin!" Master Zero's Overseer barked at them.

"DEFEAT!" he shouted back, repeating the now-familiar mantra. It had been drilled into them morning, noon, and night since training began. It was apparently one of Master Zero's personal mottoes. He narrowly managed to avoid getting his rifle strap caught on a particularly low bit of wire.

"There is only one grace!" continued the Overseer.

"VICTORY!" they replied.

Covered in muck and blood, he crawled out the end of the obstacle and sprinted onward. Ken came out behind him, and together they dashed to the climbing wall. His partner boosted him up, and he reached down to help him in turn.

Infantry training was a bitch.

He reached the firing range and shouldered his G36 next to Ken. Paper targets popped up in sequence, and he began firing off three-round bursts. Recoil was manageable, which was good since he'd barely received any actual rifle training thus far. Apparently, the instructors wanted a baseline time for everyone on the infantry course. On the fifth burst, there was a dreaded clicking and nothing happened.

"DEAD! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!" Sergeant Jaffe roared, sharply jutting his baton into Tetsuo's back.

Shamefully, he turned around. The sergeant was there, as was Mr. Steel, the agent Master Zero had sent to oversee their division's training. From what he gathered, the man was there to ensure that they were also trained in Master Zero's ideology and methods. He had the air of a mentor rather than an instructor, and was most recruits' favorite officer on base.

"What is the malfunction, Operator?" asked Mr. Steel calmly, although his deep voice was no less stern.

Looking down at his rifle, he ran through the instructions he'd been drilled on—tapping the magazine and opening the chamber. Immediately he saw the problem.

"Mud in the mechanism, Overseer Steel. Must have happened under the wire."

The drill instructor snatched the weapon from his hands and confirmed it before thrusting it back harshly. "You were told to keep your rifle above ze muck! Unacceptable, Operator Onmyojo! In a fight, a jam like zis kills. Clean your fucking rifle, then your ass in on P.T until dinner! And no changing uniforms!"

Internally Tetsuo grimaced and swore, but he knew better than to do either in the presence of Mr. Steel or Sergeant Jaffe.

"Sir yes sir!" he barked, snapping a salute and jogging off. Behind him, he heard Jaffe screaming to Ken that his partner had died pathetically, and it was now on him to finish the mission alone.

Still, he knew deep down that every drop of sweat he shed was making him stronger and better able to serve Master Zero and Neo-Japan.

* * *

Lloyd sniffled slightly, and Cecile passed him a tissue.

"I'm sorry," he said, tears in his eyes, "it's just so beautiful..."

A series of cranes slowly lowered his beloved Lancelot into place at the Royal Tokyo Garrison's Knightmare hangar. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, his clothes were rumpled and grease-stained, and his entire staff was nearly comatose, but he'd _done it_.

"Is it functional, Asplund?" demanded a waspish voice. He turned to see the Vicereine standing outside the hangar door, having stepped out of an armored limousine parked on the base tarmac. She was joined by Countess-General Nu and a blue-eyed man a pilot uniform. Her royal guard stepped out of two escort vehicles, menacing as always.

He grinned in pleasure, but she just scowled. 'Empathy' wasn't really his strong suit, but he imagined someone like her didn't appreciate having to drive all the way down to the Tokyo garrison just to see his beautiful creation. But he knew that her attitude would dissolve the second she saw it in action. "It's more than functional, Your Highness. Thanks to your generous funding I was able to make an incredible breakthrough, and as the patron you will reap the benefits."

The princess ran an eye up and down the machine, unimpressed. "What have you done?"

"If you will direct your attention to the rear of the machine, I have finally managed to miniaturize one of my FLOAT units. You, Your Highness, are now in temporary possession of the world's first flight-enabled Knightmare Frame."

"I see..." muttered Carine. Military tactics weren't her field. "Machlin, what do you think?"

The pilot gave the Lancelot a once-over. He was thick and stock, with the air of a pugilist. His blonde hair was cropped into a military cut, but it obviously longed to grow out. "If this seventh-generation frame truly flies, Your Highness," he began obediently, "then it will revolutionize Knightmare combat. In my opinion, Earl Asplund has delivered on his promise—provided it's operable, of course."

Lloyd coughed awkwardly. "Well that's why I'm here a day ahead of schedule, Your Highness. I need to ensure the knight you selected is able to pilot the machine."

"Sir Machlin was a candidate for the Knights of the Round," stated Nu. "I'm confident he will be up to the task."

The knight bowed at the waist. "Your faith humbles me, Countess-General. I shall endeavor to prove myself worthy of it. Is there anything I should know about the frame?"

"I've been working frantically to get this prototype working in time to beat Her Highness' deadline, so it hasn't been extensively tested. The FLOAT system has power priority over all combat systems, which unfortunately means that the Blaze Luminous shield does not work when it is active. The Maser-Vibration Swords and VARIS cannon are low enough draws that they still function though. Also, I've yet to implement an ejection system, so you're going down with the frame if you fail."

Machlin grinned. "Well I've always liked a challenge. Let's give this baby a whirl."

* * *

It was mid afternoon when Kaguya finally reached the JLF's bunker. A pair of soldiers had met her at the entrance and escorted her to the medical wing. She played up her cold fury as much as possible, only relenting once she was at Suzaku's bedside.

Apparently, the doctors had been decided to wait for her before waking her (ex)-fiance up. They thought had her presence would help calm him down and keep him from overreacting to the news of his leg. She doubted it. Suzaku was obsessed with martial arts and physical prowess, so the news that he'd never so much as _jog_ again was going to destroy him.

Maybe this would finally mellow him out, she mused.

Unlikely.

She clasped his hand tightly, mindful of Todoh's conflicted stare over her shoulder. At her nod, the attending doctor dialed back the IV. Suzaku stirred for several seconds, before shooting up with a pained gasp. She placed a calming hand on his chest and eased him back down.

The following conversation was very uncomfortable. It was almost academically interesting to watch someone go through all five stages of grief right in front of you—and Suzaku managed it in about an hour. She fawned over him appropriately, nodding when he ranted about the things he'd do to Zero. Only years of political experience enabled her to feign interest for that long.

Finally, mercifully, the doctor eventually cut in to say that Suzaku should get some rest. She 'reluctantly' agreed and tearfully departed. She was eventually left alone in the corridor with Todoh.

Her feelings towards the man were difficult to define. On the one hand, he was a competent leader and dedicated wholeheartedly to the cause of freeing Japan from the Britannians. Unfortunately, he was also stubborn, idealistic, and loyal to the core. No matter how obvious it was that Zero was Japan's future, Todoh would always view the Six Houses as the nation's government.

These same ideals were also the reason for the JLF's ineffectiveness. They were completely unwilling to commence any action that might blow back on the ghetto residents. Thus, in essence the only military operation he would condone would involve a direct, successful military engagement against the entire Occupation.

If he would loosen up and realize that not all wars are won on the battlefield, she could have turned him to her side—but that happening was all but impossible now.

Sighing, she followed him to his office. After taking in the damages with a speculative eye, she seated herself across from his desk.

"Tell me everything about what happened," she demanded harshly.

* * *

Carine was _very_ pleased. It seemed that Earl Asplund, insolent as he may have been, had earned every penny. After watching the flight-enabled Lancelot in action, she was confident that it would tip any engagement in her favor. Nu had concurred.

The operation against the JLF was all set. The DIS had reported that the JLF was keeping tabs on their military movements in a currently-unknown manner, so they had ensured that every single soldier from general to private knew the exact route and day by which they were reinforcing the MvB Naval Base. If they had any brains at all—which she somewhat doubted, but had been assured they did—they would ambush the convoy, at which point additional Knightmares hidden in the supply trucks would burst out and slaughter them.

Of course, she had to be _sure_ that the JLF would take the bait, so she was going herself to add the extra enticement.

And once the JLF were beaten back, she would track them to their burrow and start removing limbs until someone told her how they were being supplied. With that established she could cut off Zero and his dogs—ensuring the security of her Area and pacifying Daddy.

It wasn't a perfect plan, she would admit, but it was one of the few that didn't end in her exile.

Her gaze analyzed the strategic map of the Area, displaying troop positions and fortifications. As it stood, she had exactly two hundred and thirty-six Knightmares at her disposal, although three dozen of those were Glasgows lent to her by Ashford. Fifty-nine were on defense of the Tokyo Settlement, fifty-nine had been assigned to the Mt. Fuji mines, and one-hundred and eighteen were coming with her on tomorrow's operation. Enough to crush the JLF.

Fortunately, her saving grace was that Area 11 was one of the most important strategic targets in the Britannian Empire, so all three points were incredibly fortified. Even her own citadel was beehived with artillery emplacements and pillbox nests—along with secret escape tunnels thanks to Ashford's extensive subterranean construction. From it, she could rain fire down on any part of the Settlement and still escape should anything go wrong.

She owed General Nu a raise for overseeing the defensive construction. Without it, she'd be unable to leave Tokyo with such a relatively-small garrison.

A pair of lips touched her neck, and she felt the arms of her Knight Giles wrap around her. "Come to bed, princess," he whispered huskily into her ear.

"It's mid-afternoon," she reminded him, ignoring the advance. Giles was a pretty enough Pureblood, and while they'd started out hot and heavy—these days she was growing bored of him. It didn't help that he had all the wit of a commoner and thought that 'duchy' was a kind of cake.

The lips did not stop their quest down her shoulders. "You're Vicereine. You can't take an afternoon off?"

"Not on the eve of a military operation," she growled, shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to shake him off.

Instead, his gruff hands spun her around and forced her onto the war table. She felt the urge to have him whipped for his impertinence, but honestly she could use this stress relief. He knelt between her legs and began working her skirt off. "Come now, Your Highness. I'm you Knight. I should be informed about everything you're involved with. How about you tell me while I fuck you silly?"

As her Knight's lips began caressing her folds, Carine's will wavered. Well, this would be a decent excuse for a break, and a simpleton like Giles would be a good sounding board. "Well, we're setting out at 0600 hours. I'll be in the G-1 Command Center..."

* * *

Lelouch whistled as he checked the citizen registration numbers on his computer. Already they were at four-hundred thousand. It was less than a percent of the old Japan's population, but it was workable. And by the Shadows' estimates, he only had about a third of the entire remaining Japanese population. The rest would come with time.

How he wished he'd been able to stabilize the ghettos' tenuous infrastructures prior to D-Day, but there was no way he'd have pulled that off under the noses of the Purists. So he'd just have to content himself with the few thousand youths who had no place in the ghetto.

Thus far, everything was according to plan. With Lady Sumeragi having accepted his proposal, his dominion over Neo-Japan was nearing completion.

All he was waiting for now was for something to go wrong.

Chuckling to himself, he took another drag of his cigarette. He'd been smoking even more than usual the last month. If he didn't want his cardio to suffer, he'd have to hit up the Ashford swimming pool. Perhaps the girls could join him. It might be a good bonding exercise for them.

There was also the report from his mole that Carine was preparing to hit the JLF tomorrow. Between the injury of their best pilot and the Knightmares he'd taken out this morning, he knew they would crumble like a rotting manor. Had he the manpower he'd be tempted to use the opportunity and ambush Carine's forces himself, but raw recruits would serve him no purpose. He'd just have to hope that the JLF went down kicking.

But he doubted it.

A knock sounded from his door, and several moments later Sancia opened it to poke her head inside. "Ms. Kozuki here to see you, Master."

"Send her in," he instructed with a nod. She entered, dressed as usual in her Fulcrum uniform and looking positively radiant. With a push of a button, his computer screens lowered into the desk. Kallen seated herself across from him.

"Cigarette?" he offered, extending the smoldering stick to her.

She crinkled her nose cutely and shook her head. "I don't know how you can smoke those things."

Chuckling, he withdrew it and and gave her a knowing smile. "One day, you will."

There was a silence for several moments, and when her master didn't seem inclined to break it, Kallen spoke up. "So," she asked hesitantly, "can I ask what you wanted to see me for?"

"As I've made you nominal vice-commander of the Black Knights, you will be expected to lead and inspire men. For the next month, Kewell and I will be training you to do just that. For two hours each day you will receive personal instruction from me. The remainder of your time will be spent receiving further lessons from Kewell and training yourself in combat with Jeremiah. Our next operation is in twenty-eight days, and we first visit the bases in five."

Kallen's face colored and she shifted uncomfortably. "I thought I just had to be a figurehead." The idea of men actually living or dying at her orders made her a bit uncomfortable.

"Only for the moment," explained Lelouch. "My aims extend beyond Japan. While you are the deadliest Knightmare pilot I have ever seen by far, Kallen, once I've taught you to plan strategies and command men, you will be _unstoppable_ on the battlefield."

She blushed at the praise, nodding slightly. "So where do we start?"

"Are you acquainted with _The Art of War_?"

* * *

The sun was setting when Lelouch finally took the lift up to his private garage at Ashford. Lovely Kallen flanked his shoulder, anxious but willing to face the unknown delights she would experience tonight. It seemed that Sayoko was just as pent up as he, since the message she'd sent him had requested _all_ of them tonight.

As always, he would oblige. If there was ever one thing to thank the Emperor for, it was his unearthly stamina.

Jeremiah was waiting with the car as usual, and Sayoko was seated inside with Milly. The blonde smiled exuberantly upon sighting Kallen, and his pilot instinctively clutched the back of his shirt at the girl's leer. He chuckled to himself and seated himself across from the two. Kallen reluctantly sat herself beside him, eyeing Milly suspiciously all the while.

"Why Lelouch," purred Milly—she hadn't called him Lulu since he'd first taken her at thirteen—as she ran her gaze up and down Kallen once more, "you told me she was beautiful, but it seems I underestimated your taste in women. Sayoko and I excluded, of course. But she is _exquisite_."

Kallen tried to shake off the feeling that she was being evaluated like a prized show dog. Lelouch put a comforting hand on her shoulder and glared lightly.

"Milly," he chided, "you're being rude."

The blonde blinked, before her dark blue eyes widened. "You're right. Apologies, Kallen. It's just that Lelouch told be how gorgeous you were, but I thought him to be exaggerating. I should have known better than to think Lelouch might be imprecise in his speech. I'm Milly Ashford, by the way."

"Uhh, pleasure," muttered Kallen as she took up the heiress' extended hand. "Kallen Kozuki, but apparently you already know that."

Spotting the girl's discomfort, Milly turned sympathetic. "I understand you're nervous. If it helps, don't think of it in terms of sex. Think of it in beauty, flesh, pleasure, relaxation. We all live high-stress lives. Tonight is a night to blow off all that built-up steam, Kallen. Trust me, you'll enjoy it."

Master Lelouch's arm wrapped around her shoulder, and she leaned her head into his. "She's right, you know. The trick is just... letting go."

Kallen nodded, bracing herself for what was to come.

The car slowed as it passed through the Ashford Academy checkpoint, manned by Ashford Security contractors, but soon it had pulled into the enclosed garage of Lelouch's manor.

What followed was... _indescribable_. A blur of pale, beautiful flesh; bodies intertwining; tongues dancing; fiery pleasure. Once more the red haze overtook Kallen, and she let instinct be her guide. Her pulse hammered, the beating of some primitive drum thrummed in her ears as ecstasy wracked her body. If this was what multiple partners offered, she could get used to the idea.

Master Lelouch pounded her from behind as Sayoko and Milly assaulted her sensitive breasts. The only sounds her low moaning, the thwack of flesh, and the omnipresent beating of the drum.

When she was finally worn out and exhausted, she'd been reprieved by Milly. It was invigorating to watch Master Lelouch at work on someone else. His intensity. His focus. She'd never played an instrument, but she imagined that she could never gain as much mastery over one as he had over these women.

Even his techniques varied from partner to partner. She observed that with Sayoko he was incredibly rough—overpowering and pinning her before ravishing every inch of the assassin's body. With Ashford he eased up, but was more exuberant and experimental. Some things he tried were rejected, but others were met with ecstatic screeching for more. She wondered how he was with Mao?

There was something to be said for a partner who could adjust himself on the fly like this. None of the conflicting sexual methods even seemed to phase him as he elegantly flowed between them.

Time seemed to dilate once more, and next she knew she was curled into Master Lelouch's side as he lay panting in the center of the bed. Sayoko had gone to fetch him a drink. With the air of routine, Milly on his other arm reached over to the nightstand and handed him a cigarette.

He lit it on one of the candles surrounding the bed and took a deep inhale, playing with the smoke in his mouth for a while. The blonde took his chin and pressed her lips to his. Amused, Master Lelouch blew the smoke into her mouth and she pulled back—playing with it further before exhaling it in a smooth cloud.

Kallen had to admit that she felt slightly jealous of the casual ease and familiarity with which the pair interacted. Both Sayoko and Milly had known him for years, while she'd only been with him since D-Day. He'd told her that he loved her and sworn to be honest with her, but she still felt somewhat... distant from him. Perhaps her lessons would draw her closer to understanding him.

* * *

"This is unnacceptable!" barked Tousai—as usual the loudest and most obnoxious member of the Houses.

Hidenbou nodded sharply in agreement. "I concur. An attack on the Occupation without our consent is one thing, but Zero's actions against the JLF are nothing less than outright treason towards Japan! We have to publicize this to the commoners and fracture his support!"

"I don't think that would work," pointed out Hiroyoshi. "First, he already has a devoted following in the ghettos that would support his version of the narrative over any we could distribute. Second, with his 'Neo-Japan' recruitment centers, eighty percent of the populace have already in essence declared him their representative instead of us. To them, the JLF is no longer their army. Zero's so-called 'Black Knights' are."

"But he stole the Guren! He crippled Lord Kururugi! We _have_ to take action, or we will lose all legitimacy!" Tousai argued frantically.

Kaguya struggled to keep a straight face as she watched the Six Houses struggle with coming to terms over the fact that they had been replaced by a more effective governing body. Six years of complacency and pride were finally coming home to roost.

"With what?" snapped Tatsunori. "The JLF? We've already received intelligence that Carine is going to make an obvious attempt at drawing us out by moving her troops through Narita. Even if we refuse to take the bait, she'll just scour the mountains until she finds the bunker. We must relocate the JLF."

"Out of the question," Hidenbou growled. "Nobody touches the JLF until we find the traitor in our ranks. We can't risk any more intelligence leaks. Someone already told Zero exactly where the Guren would be landing."

Tousai pushed his glasses up the bridge of his thin nose. "And I find it suspicious, Lord Hidenbou, that not only were _you_ the liaison to the Chinese, but that you are also now stalling the relocation of the JLF!"

Smiling to herself, Kaguya decided to throw fuel onto the embers. "Please," she began diplomatically, "I spoke with General Todoh some hours ago while visiting dear injured Suzaku. He said that Zero offhandedly mentioned that the leak came from the Chinese end, not ours."

Kirihara, as expected, took the bait. "I'm afraid Kaguya, that Zero's statement there only _confirms_ the traitor within our ranks. If the leak were truly on the Chinese end, someone as intelligent as Zero would never have told us so. He'd have said nothing and let us look for a nonexistent traitor. That he attempted to mislead us unfortunately means that there is a traitor he is attempting to protect."

Like two betta fish in adjacent tanks, Tousai and Hidenbou locked furious gazes with one another. An argument erupted between them, and when both Tatsunori and Hiroyoshi tried to intervene they only ended up fielding accusations from both parties.

Even Taizo was unable to keep order as the meeting descended into anarchy.


	12. Chapter 12: Shattering

**Aaaand hello again, readers! Neolyph here with another chapter of Darwin for your reading pleasure! Ughh, this chapter was a pain to write. I'm in a difficult position because I need to do a timeskip, but there was no good place to do it. So if this chapter seems a tad rough with certain plot threads, I apologize. Things are going to be heating up next chapter though!**

 **Now, for reviews!**

 **ShadowEmperor77: That's what I was aiming for. Lelouch as he could have been, with diehard followers and a plan for world domination!**

 **CreedMaster1715: Slight spoilers here, but he did actually have a jammer in his office. The problem was that the bug was manufactured by the OSI and hardened against such things. Lelouch and Ashford won't make that mistake twice.**

 **Azzzimoth: Great to hear that I'm hitting that balance well. I try to weave sex into the plot, since it fits with the character I'm building for Lelouch. Glad that its working out!**

 **RandomReview: The threat is coming, my friend. Right now, Lelouch is still in the 'Clovis' stage of his revolution. Pretty soon, the Occupation's going to dig its heels in.**

 **Gammagyro: Kallen, Milly, Sayoko, Mao, C.C, Kaguya, and (possibly) Cornelia and/or Euphemia (I might make it a poll)**

 **Erit of Eastcris: You have a fair point there. I'll think about it.**

Chapter 12: Shattering

The JLF bunker was in a state of chaos.

Word had reached them just an hour ago through Lady Kaguya that the Vicereine knew their location and was on the way with her army. Todoh had immediately ordered a complete evacuation, cursing the lateness of the information.

Logistics officers flitted about rapidly, constantly having to make hard decisions about what precisely they could afford to leave behind. Considering that the timing of their next resupply from Kyoto was a complete unknown, the math was all the more difficult.

Some of Todoh's officers, Kusakabe the most vocal among them, had wanted to fight it out with Carine's weakened forces—but Todoh couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when Suzaku was still doped up on pain medication and required medical transport. Getting him out was his highest priority. Carine and her forces could be dealt with at a later date when there wasn't already an ongoing crisis.

This decision had... not been popular.

Only his Holy Swords had accepted his judgement without protest. But then again, they were still trying to make up for their failure to repel Zero's assault the previous morning.

Sighing, he buried his face in his hands. He told himself that he was making the decision that was best for the JLF in the long run, but an insidious voice in the back of his head told him otherwise. It whispered that he was unfit to lead—that he was placing his personal relationship with Suzaku over an opportunity to cripple the Occupation.

Yes he knew that Carine had an ambush in store, but that same ambush was predicated on an underestimate of his forces. Even after yesterday's losses, he had over a hundred Burai frames at his disposal, along with knowledge of the terrain and the home-ground advantage. So long as he could make a sufficient first-strike, the battle was winnable.

But he couldn't take the risk. Not with supplies and men so critically low. Not with support from Kyoto becoming unreliable. Not with his best pilot crippled.

He finished copying his computer's contents onto a portable hard drive, since the physical machine was too cumbersome to bring along.

There was a rapid knock on his door, and without waiting for permission a private barged in. Normally such a breach of conduct would have resulted in discipline from Todoh, but there was currently no time for niceties.

"General, sir!" snapped the private as he saluted. "The essentials have been loaded into trucks, and the pilots are preparing to deploy for escort. Colonel Chiba and the rest of the Holy Swords await you in their hangar."

Todoh nodded, finishing shoving the hard drive into a duffel with the rest of his personal belongings. "Put this bag with the others, then report to your commanding officer."

"Sir!" the private replied, shouldering the bag and dashing off for the vehicle bay.

A pang of nostalgia struck Todoh as he examined his now terribly-messy office. Half the wall ornaments had been packed in his duffel, the other half had been destroyed during his outburst yesterday. For six years he had conducted the JLF from this room. Now, he'd had less than an hour to say goodbye to it. He ran a hand along his solid oak desk, before finally trailing to his computer.

Taking a deep breath, he inputted a lengthy numeric sequence, and pressed his thumb to the integrated fingerprint scanner.

Immediately, a timer appeared on the monitor and began counting down from thirty minutes.

" _Sayonara,_ " he whispered one last time, before shrugging his coat on and making for the hangar.

* * *

Reuben Ashford stood in his tower's security office, watching over his guards' shoulders as they monitored one of the conference rooms. His legal team had told him in no uncertain terms that the audit _had_ to happen, so he'd brought Conley and his people in this morning.

Of course, just because the audit had to happen, didn't mean he had to make it _easy_ for them.

So he'd had them set up in a windowless conference room with the heat cranked all the way up until it felt like the Sahara in there. Then, he'd had all their financial ledgers transferred to paper—quoting 'security concerns' as the reason for non-digital files. With a corporation of his size, physical copies of their transactions for the last year stacked a foot high across the entire conference table.

And, _unfortunately_ , some interns had buggered up and dropped the stacks when they bringing them in, so they were also completely out of order.

The room was additionally bugged and dotted with hidden cameras, monitored by the Shadows that Prince Lelouch had assigned for his tower's security.

Either these auditors would crack and just give his corporation a clean stamp, or they would soldier through for months looking for a smoking gun that his Geassed accountants had buried under several financial mountains of paper.

Regardless, by the time these auditors could find anything incriminating, the Ashford Consortium would be property of Emperor Zero's Neo-Japan.

* * *

" _General, I must protest this decision!"_ growled Kusakabe over the Knightmare comms. Todoh had assigned him and his forces to the rear of the convoy in hopes that he could avoid the man's complaints, but it seemed he would still be forced to bear them.

" _Your objections have been noted, Lieutenant Colonel, but my orders stand,_ " he stated harshly over his frame's radio from the front of the column. They were rapidly approaching the main road through the mountains, and he didn't have time to argue with his subordinates when Carine's army was due any minute.

" _Carine is weakened!_ " Kusakabe continued hotly. " _She is placing herself into our hands! This is the opportunity we have waited for since the invasion! A royal hostage!"_

" _The General has given you an order!"_ snapped Chiba, loyal as ever. " _You will be silent and do as you are told!_ "

He and his Holy Swords finally broke onto the winding road that bisected the mountain range. It was mercifully empty, and the convoy transitioned onto it without difficulty.

There was a burst of chatter along the radio, practically indecipherable to the layman—but Todoh understood the thrust of the reports.

The surveillance posts had spotted Carine's own cavalcade enter the mountains.

His radio burst once more to life with Kusakabe's voice. " _General, the Vicerine is here! We can take her and end the war right here!_ "

That was the final straw. " _Lieutenant Colonel, you are out of line for the last time. Once we are reestablished, you will be demoted for insubordination. Another word, and I will have you flogged as well._ "

Finally, there were a few moments of blessed silence on the comms. Then, it was shattered once more.

" _Soldiers of Japan!_ " barked Kusakabe over the universal channel, and Todoh froze in shock as he realized what the man was about to do. " _Our oppressor is within our grasp, and our 'general' refuses to take action. He lets his personal attachment and complacency blind him to what must be done! I will not stand for it! For six years we have done nothing! It ends today! We will take the Vicereine and leverage her for the freedom of our people! All who will join me, follow! Nippon Bonzai!"_

To Todoh's horror, half his Knightmares broke off from the convoy to follow Kusakabe as he spun his frame around and roared away in the opposite direction.

 _"General_ _,_ " cried Chiba, " _what should we do?_ "

Todoh gritted his teeth. Half his brothers were charging towards doom and wasted deaths. But at the same time, all that following them would mean was joining them.

" _Leave them_ _,_ " he ordered. " _Continue escorting the trucks. They have chosen their fates_."

It tore at his heart to leave good, if misguided, men behind. But with Suzaku in one of the medical trucks and hundreds of infantrymen defenseless in the rest, he couldn't leave them undefended. He'd just have to cut his losses.

And so the JLF shattered in half and splintered in two directions—both halves believing the other doomed to failure.

* * *

Carine was beginning to get worried. She couldn't have advertised this troop movement anymore if she'd hired a publicist. Yet they were halfway through the mountains and there was no sign of the JLF. If the Elevens had decided to tuck tail and run, her life was over.

She sat on her throne in the G-1 Command Center, swirling wine in her glass with Giles at her shoulder. Countess-General Nu stood in the lower section of the bridge as she directed her officers. The forest she could see through the wide, reinforced windows looked absolutely perfect for an ambush and she only had eighteen Glasgows escorting her convoy. So where were the Elevens?

Suddenly, the entire G-1 shook as a massive detonation thundered from the mountainside. Almost in perfect sync, dozens of olive-colored Knightmares erupted from the treeline and began firing on her soldiers. Several Glasgows fell almost immediately, but Carine was delighted to see that their attention was focused on her Command Center.

"Now!" ordered Nu, and the Vicereine watched in satisfaction as one hundred Sutherlands leapt from the multitude of trucks and deployed weapons.

These apes had been a thorn in her side for her entire reign, and she finally got to watch them receive their just due. They struggled like cornered, ferocious rats as they realized the reality of their situation, but in the end all they could do was struggle against the inevitable.

It was almost laughable watching the Lancelot tear through the JLF's knockoff Glasgows. She could now see why her brother Schneizel tolerated someone like Asplund.

A few of the Elevens broke and ran near the end, but the G-1's cannons gunned them down with ease.

"Ensure there are prisoners," she reminded Nu, and the general nodded before relaying the order to the ground troops.

Several of the frames either voluntarily or forcibly ejected, and her forces broke off into the woods to recover the pods. No cowardly terrorists would escape the might of Britannia.

Once the smoke had cleared and casualties tallied, she grinned at the sight of over a dozen Elevens being marched into her Command Center for interrogation. It seemed they would have to do since, by the looks of the fiery crater in the distant mountainside, the JLF base would have nothing for them.

* * *

Vanderbilt sighed, slamming his head into the stack of papers before him. His jacket was off, his tie loosened, and his collar opened—yet he still felt on the verge of heatstroke.

It was blatantly obvious that Ashford was trying to dissuade him and his financial analysts from continuing the audit, but with the information he'd uncovered from his bug he knew that there was dirt to be found here.

His earpiece began softly vibrating, and he mentally translated the morse-code message before blanching. Carine had moved against the JLF a day ahead of schedule, and they had blown up their own base. Silently, he swore to hang Bartley up by his toes until the useless cretin saw the face of their Master. How had he failed to report something like that?

As casually as he could, since he knew that the room was being monitored, he reached up and began idly tapping out a response on his earpiece ordering a response team sent ASAP to search the wreckage for their Master.

If he didn't still need Bartley as an ear in the Vicereine's military command, he'd have also ordered the man's death then and there for such a blunder.

He lifted his head, glaring at the handful of papers that had stuck to his sweaty forehead and swiping them away.

It didn't matter how long it took. He had the men, so he'd find Ashford's dirt out of sheer principle at this point.

* * *

Water had always possessed a calming effect for Lelouch. When he really needed to think or just let go for a minute, there were few places better than the Ashford Academy swimming pool.

The coolness of the water focused him, and there was something about the mechanical yet fluid action of swimming that was almost therapeutic to his constantly-stressed psyche. It also helped that it gave him time to spend with Nunnally, since Thomas had recommended aqua aerobics to keep her legs from atrophying. As such, while he swam laps, Bella and Lucinda, donned in swimsuits, were exercising his sister in the shallow end.

Once he was out of breathe, he finally paused for a break by his sister.

"So tell me, princess," he teased, "how are your studies going?"

Her angelic face pouted cutely. "Calculus is hard," she grumbled.

"It's supposed to be," he chuckled, silently taking the maids' places in supporting Nunnally. She took his hand, and he began rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of her hand. He knew that she was trying to conceal it, but both Bella and Lucinda had reported to him that she'd been rather glum over his heightened absence the last month.

"But Mr. Stevens tells me that my poetry is really good," she said, brightening. "He said that I might even be able to do it professionally."

He smiled, running a hand through the wet strands of her sandy-brown hair. "I'd love to hear some. Between poetry and the violin, you're becoming an all-around virtuoso, aren't you? Just promise me you'll remember your brother Lelouch when you're some big shot artist."

"Pinky promise," she giggled, wrapping her digit around his own. "But enough about me, Big brother. How has work been?"

"Brutal," he said honestly. "Always some fire to put out, some competitor to dissuade. But every day I know that I'm working to make the world a better place for you, my little angel. How about friends? I hear from Milly that you've been cracking the whip on her in the Student Council."

His sister giggled. "I think cracking the whip on Milly is more your domain, Big Brother," she teased. "But the Student Council is great. Everyone's so nice. Milly's Milly. Rivalz is really funny, but he's always broke because he gambles a lot afterschool. Nina and Shirley are very sweet, but they're also pretty shy. Nina's a super genius, and Shirley's Captain of the Swim Team."

Lelouch continued exercising his sister as she told him tales of the Student Council's antics. In a way, he almost longed for the mundanity of a normal highschool. Normal friends. Normal relationships. For worrying about chemistry tests and crushes instead of revolution and espionage.

But he knew that life could never be his. As C.C had promised to him all those years ago, the power of Geass had isolated him.

There was no regret in his heart, but despite himself he could only reflect on what could have been.

* * *

Kusakabe came to when a bucket of ice water hit his face like a freight train. His vision faded in slowly, permeated with black spots that kept him from focusing. Gradually, he realized that he was hanging upside-down and wrapped in chains.

So he'd been captured. Wonderful.

Blindingly bright spotlights obscured the faces of his interrogators, but he could see the red and white armbands they wore. Purist thugs then. One of them leaned in close, and he could smell chewing tobacco on the man's breath.

"The JLF supplier," he demanded in badly-accented Japanese, "who is it?"

He tried to spit in the Britannian's face, but hanging upside-down it fell short. The Purist's counterpart pulled a lever and there was the brief clanking of a winch before Kusakabe plummeted downwards. The hole beneath him was filled with cold, icy water. So cold it burned. He thrashed and struggled against his bindings, but they would not give.

His lungs screamed, his heart pounded. Eventually, his body's instincts took over and forced him to inhale. Fluid entered his lungs and he felt consciousness begin slipping. Then there was the rattle of chains and he was rapidly winched out. Spluttering, he coughed up several lungfuls of water. His throat and nose ached, his heart hammered.

"The JLF supplier," repeated the Purist.

This time, his saliva hit its mark.

* * *

"Master," Kallen spoke up, interrupting Lelouch's afternoon lesson on leadership and command.

He paused mid-sentence and turned to regard her. Her interrupting him was so rare that she imagined it had caught him off-guard and piqued his curiosity. She took a deep breath. Last night, she had resolved to learn more about _him_ , not just his lessons.

"Yes, Kallen?" he asked.

"There's something that's been bothering me. You talk of fighting for the creation of a better world, but you don't hesitate about using horrible methods to do so. Isn't that something of a... contradiction?"

Master Lelouch considered her for a brief moment, before perching himself on the corner of his desk and assuming a serious expression. "I have told this to very few people, Kallen, and I suspect that I never will again. One day, when I was a young boy on holiday at Lake Arthur near Area 1, I found myself walking along the bank of a stream when I saw a mother otter and her cubs. A very endearing sight, I am sure you will agree."

Kallen nodded slowly, unsure as to where her Master was heading with this. Whenever he told a story, she knew that he was building up to something significant.

"Even as I watched, the mother otter dove into the stream and emerged with a plump salmon, which she proceeded to drag onto her half-submerged log. As she ate it, while of course it was still alive, the body split and I remember to this day the sweet pinkness of its roes as they spilled out, much to the delight of the baby otters as they scrambled over themselves to feed on the delicacy."

He chuckled darkly, his eyes distant but sharp. "One of nature's wonders, Kallen. Mother and children dining upon mother and children. And that's when I first learned about evil. It is built into the very nature of the universe. Every world spins in pain. If there is any kind of supreme being, I told myself, it is up to me to become his superior."

"So you seek the power to rewrite the nature of the universe?" asked Kallen, still trying to puzzle out her Master's meaning.

"Not power," he replied, shaking his head. "Power is a bauble. Any thug has power. The true prize is _control_. When the heavy weights of the universe are balanced on the scales, all you need to know is exactly where to place your thumb. And all control starts with the self."

"Is that why you're having me learn martial arts from Ms. Shinozaki?"

"In part. You are _fire_ , Kallen, and that's what I love about you. Yet fire, uncontrolled, can very easily burn itself out or spread dangerously. For fire to be best used, it must be tamed."

She bowed her head, reflecting on his words. "I see. Thank you for obliging me."

"Of course," he said. "It is an important lesson to learn, Kallen. Never hesitate to understand."

* * *

Growing up in India, Rakshata had never celebrated Christmas as a child—and yet that was the only feeling she could attribute to her current sensation.

A fully-equipped Knightmare research lab, funded by arguably the largest private corporation in the world and staffed by some of the brightest minds in the business. It was heaven. She pushed aside any reservations she possessed over being kidnapped and forcibly recruited.

And this Meld substance. The notion of a control rig made her mouth water.

To _be_ one of her creations, for all intents and purposes. To look through its eyes and feel through its hands. She swore that she wouldn't so much as sleep until her Guren was rebuilt to accommodate a control rig.

Plus, Ashford's crew was top notch. Quiet, obedient, and well-trained. She never had to tell them something twice, nor explain anything beyond the advanced technicals specific to the Guren. Just as she liked it. They were nothing like the slackjawed, half-wit jackasses masquerading as technicians that the Eunuchs had supplied her with when she was under their employ.

The hidden database of unreleased Ashford productions was like a candy shop. Tantalizing ideas and threads that she hadn't even dreamed of were laid out plainly—just waiting to be developed and improved on.

It seemed that Ashford's lack of a production-model Seventh Generation Knightmare was not due to inability, merely unwillingness to release it. Or them, rather.

She supposed it made sense. Some of the brightest minds in Britannia were in Ashford's employ, working around the clock to build the deadliest war machines on earth. And yet the Gloucester was supposedly the most advanced machine they'd ever developed? It was a stalling tactic. Given her new boss' ambitions, he couldn't let Britannia conquer the E.U before he was in place.

Brilliant, really.

She'd never really been a Romantic, but she imagined that Prince Lelouch was the sort of figure you read about in legends. Titanic presences. The sort who would be measured in history books alongside Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon. Never in her life had she imagined such people to be real, but she now worked for one.

And from what she'd been told of his ultimate plans, he might just surpass all three.

* * *

"I've received word from the JLF," announced Kaguya as Ryusei stepped back behind the curtain, his message delivered. "They successfully evacuated and scuttled their base, but Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe defected with half their Knightmare forces and tried to capture the Vicereine. They were unsuccessful, and prisoners were taken. We're unsure how many or who."

Hidenbou's face tightened in disgust. "General Todoh let a subordinate run off with half his Knightmares? The man is either a traitor or simply incompetent. Either way, I propose we wash our hands of him and the JLF."

"Then who would we fight the Britannians with?" demanded Tousai. "You cannot put forward sweeping propositions without an alternative ready!"

Fatigue was finally beginning to take its toll on Kaguya. They had bickered like this the entire night. Constant accusations of treason, incompetency, and so forth. She'd subtly delayed the vote to inform the JLF of the Vicereine's actions as long as she could—hoping to ensure that they would get out too late to escape.

Unfortunately, it seemed she'd only been half successful.

"Where are the JLF now?" Taizo asked her, briefly cutting through the argument.

"In the wind," she lied. "They put in their last report, then went radio silent. They won't check in for another twenty-four hours to ensure that the Vicereine can't track their communications."

"They went off the grid without our orders?" growled Hidenbou furiously.

"Oh don't get started with that again! We can't drop the JLF! We have no alternative! Who would we go to? Zero?"

The room went silent at Tousai's rhetorical question.

Both Tousai and Hidenbou froze and turned to examine the rest of the meeting room, realizing with dawning horror the thoughts of their peers.

"Absolutely not!" they snapped simultaneously, agreeing for the first time in hours.

Taizo sipped his tea, his forehead drawn in consternation. "I don't like it either, but its an avenue that must at least be considered. I'm not proposing yielding to him—but striking a bargain that will permit us to influence and control his actions. It's obvious that he's stolen the hearts of the Japanese, and with the JLF crippled and questionably loyal, we have few other options."

Once more, Kaguya had to suppress a grin. There was no way that Zero would let Kyoto have a say in his actions. The only reason _she_ had a foot in the door was because of her family name's significance to the Japanese.

"Need I remind you all that he kneecapped my fiance?" she growled to the assembly.

"A heinous crime," said Tatsunori, "and one we will certainly seek recompense for, but it may come down to dealing with Zero or giving up entirely. If that's the case, I'm afraid that I must vote Zero."

"Unfortunately, I must concur," voiced Hiroyoshi. "I fear that in this case, we may have to overlook personal attachments in the name of the greater good."

Tousai and Hidenbou looked murderous. "Out of the question!" the latter snapped.

"With three votes apiece, no new decision can be made. So we continue our current policy of supporting the JLF," declared Tousai confidently.

Taizo glanced at her meaningfully and Kaguya pretended to waver, before finally sighing in defeat. "We should at least talk to Zero."

Her two compatriots looked on in shock, but she soldiered on. "I hate it. I hate it more than you can imagine. But I _can't_ put my personal feelings above Japan. I'm not going to let Zero get away with what he's done, but I think that we should at least meet with him."

Taizo nodded sympathetically. "Well, with four votes to two, we are resolved to reach out and contact Zero for a meeting as soon as possible. We will put the JLF on standby until then."

* * *

The air smelled of damp earth, the walls constantly dripped moisture. Every drop sounded like a gunshot with Todoh's headache. Half of his pilots—gone. The hidden observation units left behind had reported that Kusakabe and his defectors were butchered by the Vicerine.

He felt bad for ever having doubted Lady Kaguya. Right now, she seemed the only member of Kyoto willing to work with them. Apparently it was only thanks to her that they'd received any warning at all before Carine's trap. The rest of the Houses had been occupied quibbling with one another over who the traitor was and whether informing their own military of the Vicereine's plans would help matters.

It was thanks to her that they even had this hideout: the Doketsu Cave System. An old mining quarry that had once been owned by the Sumeragi corporation, but was now dried up and abandoned.

The drafty caverns were frigid and wet, but they were also expansive, secure, and hidden. He wasn't sure how long they would last here, however.

Food supplies were limited, and it took a fair amount of logistics to maintain the two hundred-some soldiers he had remaining. According to Lady Kaguya's most recent communication, the Houses were now debating whether to continue supporting the possibly-treasonous JLF or throw their hats in with Zero and try to hammer out some deal with the man.

Just thinking about the Houses striking a bargain with Zero after all the man had done made him angrier than he thought possible. It was the ultimate betrayal.

For the first time since Kirihara had first ordered his surrender six years ago, he questioned his loyalties.

Since he'd turned eighteen and enlisted in the Imperial Japanese Army, he'd followed orders and been a loyal son of Japan. He'd fought, bled, and killed for his country. When the Britannians had forced his government to kneel, he'd continued the fight in secret, keeping the flame of old Japan alive.

And now, the second he and his compatriots became a minor inconvenience, they were being disposed of like yesterday's trash by their benefactors.

Zero. Carine. Kyoto. Everyone was against him.

His knuckles whitened as they squeezed the corners of his new makeshift desk. He had given _everything_ for Japan. His entire life! And those bastards were going to sell the object of his protection to that worm Zero and his so-called 'Neo-Japan'?

A calm overcame him. The same sort of calm that had overtaken him when he'd first formed the JLF against his orders.

And suddenly, he knew his course.

* * *

Kaguya smirked as she left the meeting with orders to 'reach out to' Zero with 'their' agents. She'd have to call Todoh and ensure that he cut off all comms but the single satellite phone she had access to. It wouldn't do for her fellows to accidentally make contact and contradict her report.

She was actually quite proud of herself. Warning the JLF personally and putting them up in her mines had been a stroke of genius on her part. Now they trusted her, and she'd be able to hand them over to Zero.

Perhaps this would be the bargaining chip that got her a peak behind the mask.

Oh she could picture him now. Handsome, princely even. Eyes like ice that only she could warm. Fit and toned, but not excessively muscular. He'd hold her close to him and...

"Kyaa!" she squealed to herself, wiggling back and forth.

"Your Majesty?" queried Ryusei, a slightly wary expression on his face.

Remembering herself, she straightened back up. Right. "Could you let Zero know that the Six Houses want a meeting with him? And inform him of what's transpired with the JLF?"

Her bodyguard bowed at the waist. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Exhaling in exhaustion, she dug the satellite phone from her desk drawer.

It rang once. It rang twice.

It did not answer.

* * *

Thrust, parry, feint, thrust. Thrust, parry, feint, thrust. Thrust, parry, feint, thrust.

Cornelia really wished that these Spaniards would put up more of a fight. Their pathetic _Conquistador_ frames were trash, and their pilots little better. The frames were just a step up from reinforced Glasgows, and she'd seen Number conscripts fight better than these 'elite' Spanish pilots.

She predicted that she and her forces would be in Madrid within a week. From there it was a straight shot through France to Paris, the EU's capitol. Her brother Schneizel would launch a simultaneous naval landing from the recaptured British Isles and storm the beaches. With attacks from the East and South, the French defense would crumple. And once their Central Hemicycle and symbol of unity was captured, the EU would collapse in on itself.

Then, it was just a matter of mopping up.

Feeling bored, she pulled her frame back and let her Glaston Knights handle the garbage. They pressed forward in a charge through the city's narrow streets, spearing enemy frames all the way.

" _Your Highness, is everything alright?_ " her Knight Guilford asked, concerned.

" _It's fine_ ," she answered. " _I'm just tired. I'll be heading back to the G-1._ "

" _As you command,_ " he replied, immediately pulling his Gloucester into position to defend her back. She chuckled to herself. There hadn't been a decent threat since she and her forces had landed in Spain. Their defenses were dilapidated, their weapons shoddy, their tactics dated. They had no idea how to effectively employ Knightmares.

Yet her Knight still felt the need to guard her rear.

In silence, they drove back to her G-1 Command Center, positioned on a hill to provide overwatch and fire support to her forces in the city. She could see the enemy lines wavering as they were pushed further and further towards the city center. Pathetic.

She pulled into the Knightmare bay, ejecting and ignoring the technicians as they scrambled to assess and repair her frame. Honestly, it barely had a scratch.

Her boot heels clacked like a twenty-one gun salute as she marched straight-backed to the bridge. The officers snapped to attention as she entered and saluted, before she waved them back down and they continued overseeing the conquest.

"Your Highness!" greeted General Darlton as he sighted her from the strategic map. "The Prime Minister called. He asked to speak with you."

Schneizel? What did her brother want now?

"I'll take it in my quarters."

Several minutes later, she was seated at her desk and glaring at her foppish brother on her video screen. "Cornelia!" he greeted warmly. "Radiant as ever, I see. How goes the conquest of the dagos?"

"What do you want?" she demanded, in no mood for her brother's usual word games.

"Testy. I'll get right to it then. Father's reassigning you."

"WHAT?" she yelled. "That's ludicrous! Madrid's in sight! Paris after that! We could win this war inside three months!"

Her brother grimaced sympathetically. "I'm aware. But Father is more concerned with the insurrection in Area 11."

"Area 11?" she parroted. "Father is pulling me away from a straight shot towards conquering the EU just because Carine can't control her Numbers? Why is he even concerned? He never pokes his nose into specifics when it comes to our military."

"I afraid that I don't know either. Perhaps he's worried that they'll manage to disrupt our Sakuradite flow. We're burning through it so fast that we barely even have a stockpile. If we run out for even a day, it could be the foothold these Europeans need to push us back out. Either way, there's good news. First, Father only wants you. You can leave General Darlton behind to manage the forces you leave behind, so the advance will be slowed but not stopped."

He paused just long enough for Cornelia to get impatient. "And second?"

"I want this insurrection put down as quickly as possible too, so I'll be lending you the Avalon. Perhaps a little shock and awe will show these Numbers their place."

"You got it working?" she asked, surprised. To be completely honest, she'd thought it a pipe dream.

"Indeed," he said, looking pleased. "Asplund worked out the kinks in the FLOAT unit over four months ago. I'm told he just managed to miniaturize one for a Knightmare in fact. But regardless, you'll be taking it on its first test run in a low-stakes environment. Let me know how effective it is. Make sure you affairs are in order before you leave. Father wants you in Area 11 within a month."

She couldn't suppress a vicious smirk. Those filthy Elevens were going to pay dearly for delaying her campaign.

* * *

As per usual, the rest of the Board was already assembled by the time Lelouch arrived. Only Kallen wasn't there, if only because she was at his shoulder. The members were seated and the Irregulars lurked in the corners.

Those around the table stood when he entered, but he waved them back down. He assumed his place at the head of the table, while his lovely redhead took her place at his shoulder.

"Before we begin," he started routinely, "does anyone have anything to report that didn't make it into my daily briefing?"

Kewell immediately glanced at Reuben, who cleared his throat. "We're being audited, Your Highness. It seems routine, but it came completely out of nowhere. I have people in the OFR and I still didn't hear a peep about it. According to my lawyers though, everything seems official."

Frowning, Lelouch stroked his chin in thought. The OFR did like to keep hush-hush when they were about to audit a large corporation like Ashford, but at the same time...

"Perform a full security sweep, and I'll lend you a few additional Shadows just in case. These next few months need to go _perfectly_ , and the last thing we need right now is suspicion from the Mainland."

"Thank you, Your Highness," replied Reuben, nodding his head gratefully.

Sayoko lifted her chin, and he indicated towards her.

"Both the JLF and Kyoto are fracturing. Carine moved on the JLF, but they heard and evacuated their base before scuttling it. An internal faction splintered off with half their Knightmares and tried to attack the Vicereine. They failed, and a number were captured. Highest ranking among them it seems is Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe. The remainder of the JLF followed Todoh in fleeing. Lady Sumeragi secretly set them up in some defunct mines her family once owned, but she can no longer contact them."

Lelouch furrowed his brow. "Does she know why?"

"She suspects that its due to Kyoto. They were questioning the JLF's loyalty, and after half of their Knightmares defected they also questioned their usefulness. They resolved to meet with you and see if they could persuade you to submit to them. When the Todoh learned of this, he was... upset."

"I'd imagine," smirked Lelouch. But overall, this was dangerous. The JLF in the wind with fifty Knightmares by the Shadows' estimates. Not a real threat, but enough to be annoying at a very bad time.

And Kyoto wanting to meet with him? Carine had attacked the JLF to learn of their supplier. If she'd taken prisoners, one of them would eventually break.

He sighed. Kyoto was about to become a liability. "Tell Kaguya that I'll meet with them tomorrow. As for the JLF, have our mole with Carine keep her chasing the remnants. See if the prisoners can be killed before they talk."

Sayoko bowed her head. "As you command, Master."

Surprisingly, Thomas cleared his throat next. "Ms. Chawla introduced me to something she'd been working on that I believe may prove useful for our endeavors."

"Oh?" said Lelouch, almost in sync with Ashford.

"She calls them Gefujin Disturbers. Since Sakuradite requires such a specific alignment of conditions to function, she managed to develop a device that disrupts the process. They're still small-scale, but they can knock out anything that functions on Sakuradite when they activate. Somewhat like an EMP."

Interesting. The uses for such a device abounded, so long as he could keep the secret to himself.

"Put R&D on it, with her heading the project. See if you can get a large-scale version as expediently as possible, as well as a counter."

Thomas nodded curtly. "Very well, Your Highness."

Glancing around the table to ensure that there were none else, Lelouch moved forward with his own announcement. "I am pleased to inform all of you that Kaguya Sumeragi has consented to back my bid for Emperor. Between that and Neo-Japan recruitment, I should be universally recognized as this island's sole ruler within four months."

Kallen had to suppress a smirk at that. 'Consented to back my bid for Emperor' was quite the diplomatic way of saying 'accepted my marriage proposal'. She had to admit it irked her that he had gone through with such an action without telling her—but at the same time she was forced to acknowledge her place in the grand scheme of Master Lelouch's ambitions. He loved her, and she belonged to him mind, body, and soul. And that was enough for her.

"So all that remains is making the Britannians to realize it," quipped Soresi.

* * *

"Well?" demanded Vaderbilt as he glared at his subordinates.

They shifted uncomfortably under his icy gaze, before one of them was unwillingly shunted to the position of spokesman. "We investigated the bunker's ruins as ordered, m'lord. They were mostly inaccessible, but the depth scans indicated nothing alive. If the JLF do have our Master in their custody, they took him with them before scuttling the bunker."

"I see," he intoned without inflection. It was a good tool for keeping his men on their toes. Finally, he had mercy on them. "Dismissed. Send Bartley in on your way out."

The soldiers collectively sighed in relief, before saluting and marching out of his makeshift office in the penthouse suite of the Tokyo Royale Hotel. Looking out the window, the only structure higher than he was the Vicereine's massive citadel.

As he gazed upon the towering monument to Britannian might, frustration built up inside him. _Something_ was going on in this Area. Ashford, Carine, the JLF, this 'Zero' character, he didn't know who was responsible for it—but an entire lifetime working intelligence had given him a well-refined gut instinct.

Something was _rotten_ , and he intended to find it.

Bartley stumbled in without knocking, and a withering glare ensured that it would never happen again. The simpering worm looked on the verge of pissing himself.

Standing from his desk, he stalked around and approached the shaking General.

"Interim-Director, I'm sor—" was as far as Bartley got before a fist like a steam piston impacted his gluttonous gut. He collapsed to his knees, wheezing and barely suppressing the sudden need to vomit.

"I apologize," hissed Vanderbilt with a venomous sweetess, "did I interrupt you concentration? Please, tell me how sorry you are."

The general opened his mouth again, only to receive a boot in the Adam's apple that left him gasping. This time, he wizened up and remained silent, merely whimpering on the penthouse floor.

Thumbing the bridge of his nose, Vanderbilt closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. The cold fury did not abate, but it became more manageable. As much as he wanted to spend a few hours teaching this useless bureaucrat of a General the extent of his failures, that would be neither productive nor all that satisfying. He settled for spitting on the man's sweat-soaked uniform and tossing a handkerchief at him.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered.

Slowly and hesitantly, Bartley rose to his feet and dabbed his forehead with the handkerchief.

Vanderbilt took the opportunity to circle around his desk and resume his seat. "Now, explain yourself."

"T-The Vicereine changed the day of the operation. She'd been waiting for some experimental frame to get finished, and apparently it was delivered a day ahead of schedule so she just went ahead."

"You're a general!" snapped Vanderbilt. "How the hell did you not know that the day of a major operation was changed?"

Bartley looked ready to feint. "I was... preoccupied."

"Preoccupied with _what_?"

"Well... with all this chaos and with you suddenly showing up and with Zero I got a little stressed and payed a visit to an establishment I frequent that helps alleviate such things..."

Vanderbilt glared. "Do you mean to tell me that you failed to inform me of the Vicereine's plans because you were in a whorehouse?"

The general cringed, but nodded weakly.

The knuckles on his fist itched, but Vanderbilt resisted the urge. "Get out of my sight. Make one more mistake, I'll remove your pathetic cock and ship it to your favorite doxie."

Never had he seen someone flee his office so quickly, which considering his choice of profession was saying something.

* * *

He didn't like this. The idea of deserting without a single word left a bad taste in his mouth, but at the same time it was necessary. Kyoto couldn't spit on everything he held dear and then expect him to sit idly by or politely protest.

The insult was far too grave.

And he couldn't get Lady Kaguya involved either. She'd helped them by providing those caves, but once they deserted he knew that aiding them would only bring trouble upon her. Once Kyoto came to their senses, perhaps they could work together once more. Maybe when Zero had been made to pay for his crimes. But not before. Never before.

His men had agreed. Kyoto breaking bread with Zero was unforgivable. If there was one thing to thank Kusakabe for, it was that he'd weeded out the disloyal.

Suzaku was still half-incoherent with pain medication. Now that he was awake, he'd reported partial numbness in his right hand from punching that monstrous thug of Zero's. How the masked criminal kept such a creature under his thumb was completely unknown to him.

He and his apprentice had lost so much in their lives. They were not going to lose any more.

It had been a long drive out here, but they were now secure in a temporary camp established in the woods outside the old Kururugi estate. The trees were old and thick—providing excellent cover from the air. And it was so out of the way that there was virtually no chance of them being stumbled across.

At the moment, Zero and the Vicereine were untouchable. But all he had to do was wait, and his opportunity would come.

* * *

The sun was just rising the next day when Lelouch set out for his meeting with Kyoto. His mole with Carine had just reported in that one of the JLF prisoners had broken and given her the names of their suppliers. It was now only a matter of time before their corporations were found and their secret estates raided.

Once they were captured, their supply lines would be cut and they would be pumped for information on _him_ and his operations.

Kaguya had been informed of his intentions, so he knew that she would not interfere. The last twenty-four hours had been a mess, but she'd managed herself competently through them. Perhaps once his control of Japan was consolidated, he could put her on the ruling council to manage the country while he pursued his greater ambitions. As his Empress, it would make sense.

He took his mask off and lit a cigarette. The drive was still another fifteen minutes or so.

It was down to a smoldering dog-end by the time he reached the gate of Kyoto's safehouse, where the meeting was to take place. The gate was unmanned, but opened automatically for his car.

Putting his mask back on, he rubbed the butt out in the ash tray and double-checked his appearance.

A uniformed Jeremiah pulled the car up by the entrance, where two suited men were waiting. They escorted him and his Knight inside to a circular room where the members of Kyoto sat around the edges in seiza. Their bodyguards were arranged behind them, stern and impassive.

He knelt on the pillow provided to him, impassively staring down the Houses.

"So," he began bemusedly. "The mighty Six Houses of Kyoto. The ones who hold the JLF's leash. How are they, by the way? I hear they had a spot of trouble yesterday."

Kaguya pretended to glare, but Taizo Kirihara was the one to speak. "We are not here to discuss the JLF. We are here to discuss you, and our future relationship moving forward."

"Oh? I didn't think that we _had_ a relationship. I believe that I've made my thoughts regarding your little collective quite clear."

Hidenbou and Tousai looked murderous. Tatsunori and Hiroyoshi seemed more in the realm of 'irritated'.

"Be that as it may," continued Taizo, "we have stood as the voice of the Japanese since the invasion. We have fought for their interests, as have you. Can we not put aside the quarrels of our houses for the greater good of the Japanese people?"

"I believe that my quarrel with you _is_ for the greater good of the Japanese. I believe that without you, the JLF might have actually been an effective fighting force for their countrymen."

"Who are you to make that determination?" snapped Hidenbou. "I imagine that its very easy to make baseless accusations from behind a mask of anonymity."

Tousai nodded his head sharply. "I agree. If we are to negotiate on even footing, Zero must unmask. He claims to have once been involved in government, let him prove it."

Both Hiroyoshi and Tatsunori exchanged glances, before nodding in agreement. "We also support Zero unmasking."

Taizo looked down at him expectantly. "I believe that we are united in this. Unmask, Zero, or negotiations end here."

It was a power move, Lelouch knew. They needed him far more than he needed them. In fact, he didn't need them at all. He'd hoped to perhaps poach one of the more moderate ones for his inevitable ruling council, but these fools weren't even worth the trouble of his Geass.

"Does he truly speak for everyone here?" he asked slowly. "Raise your hand if he speaks for you."

Everyone but Kaguya rose their hands. Taizo had just enough time to look shocked before Lelouch snapped his fingers.

In perfect unison, the bodyguards stationed behind the five House members opened their clasped hands to reveal garrote wires—which they pulled taut around the five men's throats. They choked and wheezed, breaking china and spilling tea as they struggled against the merciless cables. Kaguya watched in morbid fascination as his men squeezed the life from her peers.

"Kaguya," he instructed over the sound of the dying men, "liquidate every asset you can into Britannian pounds. The Vicereine will uncover your corporations any hour now. Get everything you can out before she does."

He stood slowly, stretching his aching hamstrings. He hated the seiza position.

The last of the House members finally went limp, and was released by the Shadow. Two more entered, carrying a medium-sized crate between them that they set in the center of the room.

"Get the car ready," he ordered Jeremiah. The Knight nodded, and turned to depart. He approached the kneeling Kaguya and offered his hand to her.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

Once they were clear of the driveway, Lelouch pulled the trigger of the detonator he'd been provided—reducing the Kyoto safehouse to smoldering rubble. He and his Shadows, now packed into three vehicles, rolled out towards Tokyo in a tight convoy.

Unlike usual, he did not activate the window tint to blind Kaguya. It was time for her to peek behind the curtain.

She remained mostly silent the entire drive, only peering in curiosity at the realization that they were in the actual Tokyo Settlement; the centerpiece of the Occupation.

When they entered the Ashford district, her eyes widened.

When they entered the hidden vehicle lift and began descending downwards, she looked at him in a combination of shock, horror, and awe.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards as he pressed the sides of his mask in and pulled it off his face.

"Kaguya, welcome to Fulcrum."


	13. Chapter 13: Scorched Earth

**Hello again, readers! Neolyph here with another chapter of Darwin! Man, I am on a fucking roll. I suppose it helps that I finally managed to roughly map out how I want the rest of this story to go. I'm actually quite proud of this chapter. Finally, I get to do some proper Lelouch-ing. Let me know your opinions on how how I handled this scene's fight, what you liked and what I can improve on—along with any other comments of course. Reviews feed me!**

 **Speaking of, now for reviews!**

 **I2rose: Thanks for spotting that mixup with Kaguya. Fixed. I will possibly be including characters from Akito and Oz, although I have seen neither and thus will be going solely off of their wiki entries. Thus far, I am planning on introducing Marrybell, Oldrin, and possibly Leila. Slight spoilers, but there will be a _significant_ expansion into the EU-verse. As for Australia, I have no idea what the hell I would do with it. Its biggest strength is that in the event of a world war, its in a place of little strategic or resource value. Glad to hear that you appreciate the work I put into this fic, though!**

 **Quatermass: I am partially-basing my Lelouch off of Vetinari. I work a lot of my favorite quotes into my work, so its always fun when someone spots one.**

 **CreedMaster1715: By 'experimental', I mean that in the sense of she doesn't have a preferred style. She gets bored easily, so Lelouch constantly rotates through different techniques until one of them clicks for her.**

 **Darkscythe Drake: By this point, I have thrown out a large portion of the canon plot, so no Euphinator—although she will be a part of the story. Jeremiah's Geass Canceller _will_ make an appearance, although I have yet to decide when.**

 **Azzzimoth: I always hated Guilford in canon. I thought he was a huge prick, so out of personal spite he will not be ending up with Cornelia. I'm still on the fence about her and Lelouch, though.**

 **And on with the show!**

Chapter 13: Scorched Earth

* * *

 _[Twenty-Six Days Later]_

 _[D-Day+30]_

* * *

Once more Tetsuo and three hundred of his fellow Black Knights stood in formation on the parade group, but this time there was nothing crude about their arrangement. They stood side-by-side in neat rows, rigid under the watchful eyes of their French sergeants.

Instead of their field kit, he and the others were outfitted in their service uniforms. An intimidating ensemble of white dress shirt, black tie, black pants, and a formal black military-style jacket with silver buttons—cinched around their waists by leather Sam Browne belts. It was completed by their black-and-silver service berets, red armbands emblazoned with the Black Knights' kite-and-cross symbol, and shoulder holsters bearing their sidearms.

Wearing this uniform, Tetsuo felt invincible. It was all so snug and sleek and stylish.

The parade ground was blanketed by a cool early morning fog, and the sun had just cleared the horizon. Yet no man shifted, no man complained. No man so much as shivered in the cold.

Master Zero was coming once more.

He'd thought that seeing Master Zero on the old Matsumoto highschool auditorium's projector had been awe-inspiring. In fact, it paled in comparison to the genuine article. Thrice he and his retinue had visited the base to deliver speeches and check on their training. Thrice had Tetsuo nearly fallen to his knees at the man's sheer presence.

Something about the masked revolutionary simply _demanded_ subservience. He wore authority like it was divinely-granted. Its weight struck like a physical force. Commander Kozuki had a similar, if weaker, air about herself as well—and it seemed to be growing stronger each time he laid eyes on her.

Through the thick soles of his boots, he felt the approach of the vehicles before he heard their electric engines.

He and the others had already half-snapped to attention before the sergeants even called for it. Boot heels clicked together like cannon fire as every soldier went rigid at the arrival of their commanders.

Finally, the fog parted as two vehicles rolled in alongside the formation. The lead car was a stately black sedan—trailed by a similarly-colored armored SUV. Both slowly pulled up next to the solid wooden stage erected by one of the civilian construction crews. As always, there was a collective intake of breath as the rear vehicle opened to reveal the masked Zero Squad, Master Zero's personal bodyguard.

Then the sedan's door open and the man himself emerged.

His changed uniform was oddly the first thing Tetsuo noticed. Rather than his typical outfit which resembled their field kit, Master Zero's current uniform was a variation of their current service uniforms, highlighted with gold buttons and purple trim.

Draped over his shoulders like a cape was long coat with golden epaulettes. His head was covered with a skintight black cloth, securing his featureless black mask in place—above which was the black cap of an officer. In addition to his revolver, he wore a straight and thin arming sword on his belt.

The last three times he'd come by their base, he'd come dressed as a fellow revolutionary. Now, it was clear that he was dressed as their general.

Commander Kozuki followed in his wake, trailed by Mr. Green and Ms. Black. Their commander was attired identically to Master Zero, sans the cloth and mask. Her white mask was clasped in her right hand over her chest, and her epaulettes denoted her rank below Master Zero.

There was a palatable tenseness in the air as their leaders took to the stage. The Zero Squad arrayed themselves at the base of the stage, their rifles drawn but lowered towards the ground.

Master Zero did not have a microphone, but his voice cut through the fog like a spotlight regardless. "At ease!"

Another thunderous clap as three hundred sets of boots changed position simultaneously.

"I will not tire you all with a long speech, but there are words I must say. You all cannot understand how much it pleases me what I see here today. When I first visited this base, I saw men. Now, when I look upon you, I see Black Knights. I see the brave, the few, the loyal. I see Knights ready to fight for their people at any cost!"

He pumped his fist in the air and Tetsuo cheered in confirmation with his brothers-in-arms.

"Tonight, we strike at the heart of the Occupation! The Tokyo Settlement is their brain, the MvB Naval Base their armor, but the Mt. Fuji mines are the beating heart of their war machine! If we secure those mines, we will cripple Britannia. Seventy percent of the world's Sakuradite lays deep below that mountain, and we shall ensure the Britannians never receive another _ounce_ of Neo-Japanese Sakuradite to fuel their industry!"

Another roaring cheer at the declaration.

"'Speed' must be our watchword today, men. The mines are a fortress unto themselves, and reinforcements from the Settlement lay only sixty miles away. If we have not secured the defenses within an hour of the alarm, we will be flanked on two fronts. But should we win the day... we will deliver Britannia a black eye unseen since Waterloo!"

His arms raised into the air like an eagle stretching its wings. "Now tell me, Black Knights! Will you follow me to glory?"

"YES, MASTER ZERO!" was the unanimous shout.

"Then ready your arms! Prepare your Knightmares! Tonight we remind the Britannians who they are fighting!"

* * *

"Is attacking the mines first really such a good idea?" asked Kallen as they traveled to the Sendai base for their next speech.

Lelouch looked down at where she was laying across his lap in the backseat of the sedan and raised an eyebrow. "In what sense? As a first operation for the Black Knights? Or in the larger scheme of our plans?"

"The first. An hour to take the Fuji mines, then facing a counterattack from the Settlement?"

"There are very few ways I envision the operation going awry," shrugged Lelouch. "The goal is not to seize the mines. If I just wanted the mines out of operation, I could handle that without the Black Knights. Our goal is twofold: first, to give the Black Knights some combat experience before V-Day, and second, to take out as many of Carine's Knightmares as possible. Ideally, we destroy fifty of hers at the mines, then destroy the fifty that show up for reinforcements."

Kallen frowned up at him. "But what about the static defenses? The Fuji mines are supposed to be virtually impregnable. They've got rows upon rows of automated defenses."

He just smirked. "Kallen, my dear, have a little faith. Do you really think I would have set a plan like this into motion if there was even the slightest possibility of failure? You should know me better than that. All has been arranged and accounted for."

"Truly, Kallen, we have the most arrogant of Masters," said Sayoko dryly from where she was leaning on his shoulder. He turned and glared at her lightly.

"Arrogance and confidence, my pet, are differentiated only by ability," he retorted idly, his hand absently twirling through her short dark hair. "And you should know that I have an abundance of ability."

She smiled, but he could see the tightness of genuine concern in her eyes. "Perhaps I should make it my job to follow you around and whisper to you reminders of your own mortality."

"There aren't enough hours in the day. But fortunately, even should I forget my mortality, I'll always have you to protect me from it."

As expected, a blush illuminated her cheeks.

"You know, Master," said Kallen as she slid from his lap, "Jeremiah can't see us through the divider. If you're going to get romantic on us, we may just have to respond in kind. Sendai _is_ an hour away, after all."

"Oh dear," exclaimed Sayoko melodramatically as she joined the redhead in kneeling and fiddling with his zipper. "How ever shall we pass the time?"

* * *

He'd found it.

Well, to be precise, his men had found it. After the first day, he'd never set foot in Ashford's little conference room from Hell again—instead leaving the grunt work to his analysts while he tried to get a lead on the remnants of the JLF and these newly-discovered 'Kyoto Houses'. Both had thus far proven fruitless.

But finally, after nearly a month, his men had finally dug up a discrepancy in Ashford's accounts. Quite by accident, in fact.

They had requested all of the files pertaining to a Tokyo construction company that the Consortium outsourced most of their larger infrastructure projects to. The files they'd been given went all the way back six years, to the beginning of the Occupation.

While looking for the original bids to compare with the modern bids that the company put forth, one of his analysts had noticed that when they had first handled the construction of Ashford's expansive underground system, the materials requested cost a fair degree more than they should have for what was actually built. Almost as if they had built _more_ than was in the documents.

There was something buried beneath the Ashford district that he didn't want the Vicereine or anyone else knowing about.

And Vanderbilt fully intended to find out what it was.

* * *

Hirito wiped the sweat from his forehead, keeping one eye on his crew. They were all big, strong men, but if he didn't maintain a close watch they had a habit of doing really stupid things.

He was still gobsmacked by how quickly Master Zero had stabilized their infrastructure. They now had power thanks to some massive high-tech solar arrays, running water from a mechanical aqueduct linked to a spring up in the mountains, a steady food supply in the form of the ration depots, security from the Wild Geese mercenaries, sewage through the reconstructed underground systems, and even decent housing from his current project.

The temporary tenements he and his crew were constructing weren't big, but they were heated, air-conditioned, furnished, powered, and had working plumbing—all of which were steps up on everyone's former accommodations.

They'd do until their people were liberated and could build some more permanents structures. Already, impromptu hospitals and greenhouses were being established.

It had been quieter in the streets ever since Master Zero had sent a load of buses down to evacuate every underage orphan from the was. The sight had been depressing as every defenseless child six to thirteen came out of the woodwork and piled onto the vehicles. There had been thousands of them. Hirito could only take comfort in the fact that they were being taken to safety.

For the older children, schools had yet to be established. The given reason was that education required so many resources to do properly that Master Zero would require full control of the country before he could implement anything more than a slapdash measure. In the meantime, the teenagers were put to work where possible.

Hirito could understand that. Not everything could be expected immediately. It was a miracle that this much had been done already.

He shook his head, preparing to yell at Ryuk for mishandling the post-holer. Six years had passed since he'd felt like anything other than an inmate in a concentration camp. Now, he finally felt like a citizen once more.

* * *

These days, Carine found herself in an almost perpetual state balanced somewhere between frustrated, livid, and apathetic.

She was out of time.

The JLF had been her chance to cut Zero off, but they'd given her nothing. 'The Six Houses of Kyoto' had proved fruitless. From the names she'd been given, she'd tracked down their former corporations, realized the con that they had been running, and shut them down—but by the time she had done so the companies had been gutted financially. Whatever routes the Elevens were using to import their equipment, they still had the capital to do so.

And she couldn't even track down the actual members. The safehouse she had found among the companies' assets had been burned to the ground, and a number of unidentifiable corpses uncovered within. She didn't even know if they were really dead.

Zero still had her over a barrel, and she was out of time.

She'd been so certain that he would take a run at the MvB Naval Base, but so far there had been _nothing_. Her DIS agents had reported no activity from the ghettos, Zero hadn't made a single appearance, and neither had the remains of the JLF.

Worse, she had just received the report that her sister Cornelia was en route with some of her forces. Her tenure as Vicereine, and possibly as princess, was over.

Her only potential saving grace had been that the Sakuradite was still flowing. There was one last big shipment of the processed stuff on the docks ready to ship out for the European front. So long as it reached there safely, she might keep her name.

And speaking of, Ashford still didn't have her Knightmares. He'd cited problems with his metal supplier sending him impure steel, but honestly she didn't have the energy to even be mad at him. It was a moot point now. Even if she had the Knightmares, she was too late.

She'd lost. Zero had beaten her.

All she could do was pray that Cornelia avenged her.

* * *

On a quiet street in an affluent Britannian neighborhood, a white utility van slowly rolled into the back alley behind a walled estate. The alley was deliberately designed to be out of the way so that servants and other commoners could come and go from the house without being seen on the respectable street.

Night was just falling when the back of the van opened and four figures in workman's jumpsuits and caps pulled low over their faces emerged. Each carried a toolbox in their hand as they casually but swiftly approached the small guardhouse in the rear of the estate.

The security officer barely had time to look up from his paper before a silenced bullet ricocheted through his skull.

With silent feet, they darted through the back yard and up to the expansive main house. A groundskeeper spotted them halfway through the run, and it was the last thing he ever saw.

Two of the intruders covered the others as one picked the lock of the servant's entrance and the other disabled the alarm. The keypad beeped in disarmament almost in unison with the clicking of the door unlocking.

Inside, they proceeded to pick off the occupants one by one. Servants, guards, anyone they found was purged.

Finally, they reached the room containing their targets. One of the intruders produced a special pistol from his pocket, and counted down from three as his compatriots stacked up on the door.

At three, he kicked the door in to reveal an aristocratic Britannian woman tucking her young daughter in to bed. She had only just opened her mouth when the intruder fired his pistol and a dart impacted her neck. Almost instantly, she crumbled to the floor. Her daughter looked on in shock before the intruder shifted his aim and tranquilized her as well.

He holstered the pistol in his pocket once more and moved to the prone bodies as his colleagues produced boxcutters and began slicing along the edges of the carpet. Slowly, he dragged the woman to the edge of the room, and placed her daughter alongside her.

With practiced efficiency, the intruders rolled both women up in carpets and shouldered them in concealed bundles.

No one even looked at them twice as they casually strolled back out and placed their cargo in the rear of their van before speeding off into the night.

* * *

The air was thick and tense as the Black Knights assembled. Their staging area was a large valley along the road to Mt. Fuji. Just over the hill they could see, across the flat two mile no-man's-land, the distant mines, and they weren't a welcoming sight. Glaring spotlights illuminated a series of three intimidating concrete and steel rings encircling the entire mountain.

The first ring seemed concerned with air defense. It was completely perforated with automated SAM sites, flak cannons, rail guns, and radar dishes to make an air assault all but impossible.

The second, lower ring was topped by rails that permitted the maneuvering of innumerable unmanned ground-defense turrets and cannons that looked ready to shred anything that approached.

Finally, the lowest ring looked designed to deploy Knightmares. The onlookers could spot launching tracks and refueling stations, integrated with cover to sustain a long siege.

A single road approached the mountain, and at its terminus were the actual mines—five parallel holes that descended over two miles downwards to the buried Sakuradite deposits. Computer-driven machines scraped the raw and volatile ore from the walls and conveyed it up the the surface, where workers _carefully_ loaded it onto trucks with special shock-absorbers, which drove it sixty miles to one of the Tokyo processing plants for refinement into the more stable and plentiful stuff, followed by shipping.

Tetsuo leaned against the leg of his Tandem with Ken, trying to keep his nerves steady. Instead of his service uniform, he was now donned in his field kit. It consisted of the uniform he'd been given upon his induction, topped with thick but flexible body armor and helmet with goggles. With his bandanna, his entire face was covered.

He'd run track in middle school, and the feeling now was the same as he'd used to get before a race. A dread, cold feeling in his gut. His veins felt like ice.

But he'd always won his races then. And he'd win this battle now.

It was amazing to see all six corps of the Black Knights assembled in full like this. He counted two hundred Sutherlands, around two hundred Tandems, and about one hundred and fifty Puma IFVs. On paper it hadn't seemed like much, but seeing it assembled was beyond his wildest dreams. It was an _army_.

The foot soldiers stood arrayed in squads of six around every Puma. Each squad was headed by a veteran French mercenary to ensure that discipline was kept under fire. Meanwhile, the pilots were all in place by their respective machines, each anxious to try them in a real test.

This time, he and the others heard Master Zero's approach before they felt it. He arrived in the same two vehicles as last time, but this time he was accompanied by a dozen of his trademark shipping trailers with loud Sakuradite-diesel engines.

"Form up!" barked the sergeants near the front of the assembly, and every man rushed to muster for Master Zero's address.

The man himself, accompanied of course by Commander Kozuki and his retinue, marched to the furthest tank and leapt aboard the rear so that he could speak to the entire army.

Every man snapped to a salute, and he responded by putting them at ease.

"As with before, my Black Knights, I shall not tire you with a long speech. Speed is our aim tonight. Commander Kozuki shall lead the charge, followed by our Sutherlands. The Tandems will follow behind them, escorting the infantry in their Pumas and providing fire support."

Tetsuo nodded to himself. It seemed a solid, logical plan.

"As you may have guessed, of the three defensive rings surrounding the mountain, only the third is actually garrisoned. The upper two are purely automated. Once the Sutherlands have secured the exterior, the infantry will deploy inside and secure the interior. Defenses inside will be light, as it was designed to be impregnable from the outside. Your target is the central security station—from which the automated defenses are managed. You will wrest control of them, and turn them on the reinforcements."

Smirking, Tetsuo chuckled. He liked the idea of having the Occupation's Sutherlands arrive, only to be annihilated by their own cannons.

"Once the defenses are secured and the reinforcements eliminated, I will send in special charges to seal the mineshafts shut and deny the Britannians use of them until these lands are ours once again!"

A cheer went up, but then Master Zero's posture and voice turned somber.

"We will lose men tonight. Brothers will leave tonight, and never return. I endeavor to give my men the best odds I can, but there will always be casualties. Just know that every man who falls here tonight will live on in the annals of Neo-Japanese history! Three generations from now, schoolchildren will be taught of the great Battle of Mt. Fuji and the brave few who fought there that night! Brother may fall tonight, but they will never die!"

Tetsuo wondered if this was how Britannians felt watching a speech from their Emperor. Pride, patriotism, and other emotions stirred in his chest as Master Zero delivered his oration. Every gesture was precise, every inflection perfect. Without even consciously doing so, he was once more cheering with his comrades.

The speech ended, and the soldiers rushed to their stations. Infantry piled into the rears of the Pumas. Pilots climbed into their Knightmares. Seven of Zero's trailers opened to reveal their own custom frames. The Zero Squad had four customized Sutherlands, as did Mr. Green. Commander Kozuki winched herself up to the cockpit of a terrifying crimson monstrosity with a wicked silver claw.

Master Zero's frame resembled a Sutherlands, but the cockpit was protruded further out and was bulbously rounded. It was clearly some sort of command frame.

Tetsuo wondered what the other five trucks were for, then remembered Master Zero's promise of specialized charges for the five mineshafts.

Climbing up the rope ladder, he pulled himself into the gunner seat of his Tandem and went through the pre-op checklist. Everything was in order, and several seconds later Ken gave his own all-clear.

It was time to fight for his country.

* * *

Alfred cracked his aching neck and flexed his shoulders, tired of being hunched behind a desk for so long. He longed for a break—but in the eight-man security center he couldn't slip our without being spotted by his supervisor, Earl Bryer.

Honestly, he hated this assignment. The pay was decent, but the coffee sucked, he spent his entire day scanning screens for imaginary suicidal Elevens, the defenses practically ran themselves, and above all his boss was a politically-appointed asshat who ran the security center like it was a fucking boot camp. The man had never even been enlisted.

There was the beeping of a cellphone, and he glanced behind him up at the raised platform where Bryer had set up his 'throne'. The Earl was checking his phone, and after glancing at some message, his expression seemed to go lax.

"Men, I just remembered that there's to be a special event in the mess. You head down there and wait. I'll keep an eye on things from here."

Several of the others made eye contact with Alfred at the sudden oddness of their boss, but he just shrugged and saluted before filing out through the heavy bulkhead door towards the mess. He'd been itching for a break and he wasn't a man to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Weird. He hadn't heard about any special event. Was it someone's birthday?

* * *

Backing up to ensure that they were at full speed before breaking cover, the first wave of Black Knights launched over the lip of their valley and began charging the mines. Commander Kozuki took point in the exact center of the formation, making her way up the main road.

The response from the mines was almost immediate. A distant klaxon alarm began sounding and hangar doors started opening all along the side of the mountain.

On the second tier, the automated cannons deployed and moved along their tracks to take aim.

But they did not fire.

* * *

"Sir!" called Alfred frantically as he pounded on the bulkhead door to the security center. "We're under attack! The defenses aren't firing! Let us in!"

There wasn't any response. He turned to the rest of his colleagues. "Christ, this is bad. Head to the armory and see if you can get some explosives or something. I'll keep banging."

* * *

As the fastest Knightmare, Kallen reached the fortifications before any of her men. Being jumped into the Guren was... liberating. Like a cripple walking for the first time.

The two Britannian Sutherland closest to her took aim and fired, but she effortlessly evaded and imprisoned the first in her claw—using it as a shield from the second. It exploded in a crimson inferno of burning Sakuradite and boiling steel. Seeing its comrade's fate, the second frame tried to retreat, but she hooked it with a Slash-Harken and reeled it in like a fish.

In one moment, the primal fire deep within Kallen blazed high once more. It was the fire that both drove and destroyed man. Heracles. Spartacus. Beowulf. The rage of rebellion against the world.

In one moment she felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Britannian who wouldn't lift a finger to protest their government's atrocities. She wanted to press her claw to Mount Fuji and set the volcano off until ash filled the skies.

She wanted to _breathe smoke_.

A callous laughter filled the cockpit as she remembered the cigarette Master Lelouch had tucked into her jumpsuit's breast pocket. She wanted to rip the filter off and light it in her mouth, letting the choking fumes fill her lungs.

She wanted to destroy something beautiful.

* * *

Carine rushed into her citadel's command center to find it in absolute bedlam. The largest screen displayed an overhead view of the Mt. Fuji mines, scattered with _hundreds_ of enemy markers.

Her arm shot out and snatched the nearest person, and she hauled him up to her face without even glancing at his rank. " _What's happening?_ " she demanded pointedly.

The lieutenant's face, already pale, turned ashen. "T-The Elevens, Your Highness. They're attacking the mines. They've got all those stolen Sutherlands, along with a bunch of unknown frames and IFVs. Earl Bryer, the defensive commander, has locked himself in the security center and the turrets aren't firing. They've only got the garrison forces to fight with."

She was dead. Forget keeping her name. Daddy would have her killed for this.

"Send everything," she ordered.

It said a lot about how frantic things were that the lieutenant made the mistake of arguing. "Your Highness, we only have just over fifty frames here. If we throw them at Zero's frames, they'll still be outnumbered four-to-one at best."

Without even thinking, she wrenched Giles' sidearm from his holster and put a bullet between the Lieutenant's eyes. He collapsed to the ground and the command center went silent as everyone turned to look at her in complete horror.

" _ **Send everything**_ **.** "

This time, nobody argued.

* * *

Cornelia was midway through eating a rather late dinner with Euphemia in the Avalon's royal quarters when Guilford entered and whispered in her ear.

"Euphy, dear, I'm afraid I have to cut this short," she apologized as she set her utensils down and stood.

Her beloved little sister looked up at her in concern. "Is everything alright, Cornelia?"

"Yes. It just seems that there's currently a bit of insurrection going on and we may have to get involved. Finish your dinner, then have the shuttle take you to Tokyo. I don't want to bring you into a combat situation."

As Euphemia nodded, Cornelia straightened her uniform and followed Guilford to the bridge where her staff were monitoring the situation at the Mt. Fuji mines. As she took in the screen, she realized just how bad the situation was.

How in hell had the Elevens gotten their hands on this many Knightmares? There had to be at least four hundred of them! With IFV support! And just how badly was Carine running this Area that her own Numbers had managed to build an _army_ under her nose? She supposed this was why her Father had sent her here, and why Schneizel had lent her the Avalon.

"How far are we from there?" she asked Guilford.

"About seventy Kilometers, Your Highness," her Knight answered. "With this ship's speed, it should take us slightly over an hour to reach there."

That wasn't good. When it came to battle, a lot could happen in an hour.

"Then set our course for there, engines on full burn. Prep all of our Knightmares for deployment, ourselves excluded."

Guilford snapped a salute. "As you command, Your Highness."

* * *

As the superheated blowtorch finally cut its way through the reinforced metal grate, Hubert dipped his chin to Winston and together they hauled the makeshift entrance open.

He'd done a lot of things in service of the OSI, but never had he crawled through a pipe filled with liquid shit in the name of satisfying his boss' hunch. But he didn't make the orders, he just followed them.

Even through his rebreather, the stench burned his nostrils as he and his partner made their way into the sewage section of the Ashford underground system.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached the maintenance hatch and pried it open. They emerged into a narrow concrete tunnel with sturdy pipes running along one side of the wall.

Immediately both he and Hubert stripped their waste-coated diving suits and dumped them back into the pipe. They also removed the sealed plastic coating from their gear bags and tossed them in with the rest of the refuse. With their kit now clean, they changed into Ashford PMC uniforms, complete with helmets and goggles to conceal their faces.

The supply list their boss had looked into contained more sewage supplies than matched up with the blueprints for the Ashford sewers. As if they had built around something that didn't appear on the plans.

There was something down here, and it was his job to find it.

* * *

It was fun, Tetsuo decided, being on the winning side of a slaughter. When the Britannians started running out of Sutherlands, they deployed a handful of Glasgows. When the Glasgows were ripped apart by Commander Kozuki, they got truly desperate and started fielding tanks.

As Ken charged their Tandem up to one of the hangar doors, a Britannian tank slowly rolled out and he put an autocannon shell down its barrel. It detonated spectacularly, illuminating the dark entryway.

With the route now cleared, the four Pumas they'd been escorting backed into the hangar and opened their reach hatches. Two dozen of his fellow Black Knights emerged in a tight tactical formation, the Frenchmen directing their fire as they engaged the engineering crews on the upper rear balcony. The defenders sealed shut two large metal doors on each side of the balcony, but the Pumas crews simply rotated their weapons upwards and blew their allies a few new entrances.

Kirigaya and Kazuto rolled in with their own Tandem, escorting four more IFVs to join in the butchery.

Tetsuo didn't know how Master Zero had disabled the mines' automated defenses, but he chalked it up as yet another of the man's spectacular and inexplicable miracles. Watching the developing panic as the Britannians realized that they were going to be overrun had been quite possibly the most satisfying thing he'd ever felt.

He checked the mission timer. Just under thirty minutes. That left the infantry a little over half an hour to wrest control of the defensive command center.

If watching the defenses not working had been satisfying, he wondered how it would feel watching them working for _his_ side.

* * *

Fortifications, Alfred was beginning to realize, were a double-edged sword. They were great if you were on the inside, but terrible if you were on the outside. The security center had been designed as the most defensible point in the entire complex. After all, once it was taken by an enemy, the mines were effectively seized.

Unfortunately these same qualities made it a bitch to retake if your commander went insane and barricaded himself in there while you were under attack.

"Are they set?" he asked Evan as he fiddled with the Sakuradite Energy Fillers they'd borrowed from engineering. A defensive garrison didn't have a ton of use for breaching explosives, so they'd made do.

The man wiped sweat from his forehead and glared. "Look, I did this _once_ when I was suppressing a revolt in Area 9. But I think so. Just get a grenade ready, and it should set this puppy off."

Alfred banged on the heavy bulkhead again. "Earl Byron, sir, this is you last warning! Either open the door, or we're going to blow it!"

He waited five seconds for a reply, before shaking his head. "Everyone back!"

All seven security officers backed up to the end of the twenty-five-yard concrete corridor and took cover against the walls. Alfred sighed, pulled the pin of the grenade he'd snagged from the armory, and chucked it at their impromptu explosive.

What all of them failed to realize is that when detonating a non-breaching explosive in a confined space, if the space in question does not give, then the blast will be magnified and spread along the path of least resistance. In this case, the path of least resistance consisted of the open twenty-five-yard concrete corridor with seven unaware Britannian security officers huddled at the end of it.

"Oh shi—" was all Alfred managed to yell before he and the others were consumed by a pink inferno.

* * *

Lelouch smirked as he watched the progress of his assault on the display of his customized Sutherland _Imperator_. Kallen was leading the Irregulars in their _Furies_ , while Jeremiah was defending him personally in his _Praetorian_.

Thus far, the exterior of the mines had been secured and his infantry was being deployed inside. The defenders were putting up a fair struggle, but his men were progressing slowly and steadily. They might not make it to the security office in time for the reinforcements, but he could still turn the cannons on them with but a text message.

The right Geass on the right man could make all the difference in the world.

Earl Bryer, for example, frequented the same Tokyo gambling establishments as Lelouch himself did. All it took was cornering the man in the bathroom, and his loyalty was secured.

But of course, he'd have to provide an explanation for the man's treason to whomever investigated afterwards, so he'd sent his Shadows to kidnap the Earl's wife and daughter. A look at the Earl's messages after the fact would reveal a message containing a picture of his bound wife and daughter and instructions to barricade himself alone in the security room—before using his administrative codes to lock down the automated defenses.

His mole with Carine had reported that she'd panicked and deployed every soldier she had in their direction. With the exception of the MvB Naval Base garrison, that meant he was about to annihilate most of the Occupation in one go.

Oh how he loved it when a plan came together.

If he were able to, he'd just move on from the mines and assault Tokyo directly in one go, but unfortunately his EU friends were dragging their feet about fulfilling their end of the bargain until he provided them with the mines as a proof-of-concept.

And oh how he hated Democracy. Always slow when you need it to be quick, and quick when you need it to be slow.

* * *

This was his calling. His entire adult life, James Machlin had been a devout member of the Britannian Purist Faction. And finally, a like-minded royal had noticed his dedication and ability—and rewarded him suitably.

He'd spent the last month familiarizing himself with Asplund's Lancelot. The FLOAT system was a work of art, even if his constant combat-ready status meant that the man _still_ hadn't had the time to work out all the bugs. He'd only had it konk out once, and that was when he was trying to see if he could lift a tank with the frame. For the record, he could, but not for long.

But now he was being called to put down the Zero's Eleven insurrection once and for all. His men were few, but they were elite, and he was in the most advanced Knightmare ever produced. Failure was impossible.

Keeping pace over the mobile convoy of reinforcements, he zoomed in his factsphere as far as it would go, but with the dark he still could not make out the details of the battle at the mountain. All communications had gone slient just fifteen minutes ago, so it could only be assumed that either some Elevens had gotten inside, or Earl Bryer had done _something else_ to sabotage their efforts.

The idea of an Earl turning traitor made his blood boil. It was a slap in the face to everything Britannia stood for.

As they neared the mountain, he swooped down to the ground so that he could change out his energy filler before the fighting began. He didn't want to run out in the middle of a fight.

Once the ammo truck had swapped in a fresh filler for him, he drew his MVS and charged over the hill with his men behind him.

What he faced was an enormous defensive line of Sutherlands, unknown frames, and IFVs. Then, the cannons atop the mountain finally fired.

* * *

" _Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ._ "

The words had remained in the back of Earl Bryer's mind since that wonderful day four months ago when he'd met his Master: Lelouch vi Britannia. Since that glorious day, he had acted as he always did, but his mind, body, and soul had been his Master's.

When the message had arrived containing a fake threat from his Master's agents, he'd acted as an Earl whose family was being held hostage, but he'd have put the bullets in them himself had it been necessary to further his Master's goals.

And when his Master's soldiers had blown open the door to his security center and placed a gun to his head, he'd played the part of the terrified and cowed Britannian, meekly following their orders and turning the weapons on the reinforcements.

Everything was for the Master.

* * *

Tetsuo looked on in awe as the arsenal atop the mountain unloaded on the train of Britannian reinforcements. Sutherlands, Glasgows, tanks, APCs, nothing was spared.

Thus far, he'd only seen their side sustain four casualties. Two of their Sutherlands had been forcibly ejected during the initial charge, although their IFVs had recovered their cockpits. The other two were infantrymen that had fallen during the assault on the hangar.

Meanwhile missiles, shells, and artillery continued to rain down on the advancing Britannians.

Eventually a single frame broke through the bombardment. It was a sleek white frame, of a kind Tetsuo didn't recognize. Ordinance still kept flying towards it, but it raised some sort of luminous green shield that deflected the attacks.

Shit.

Right as he was starting to get worried, Commander Kozuki and the Zero Squad charged from their side to meet the unknown frame. Blows were traded faster than Tetsuo could follow them, but eventually the dichotomy became clear. While it was obvious that the unknown pilot was better trained, the commander had more raw skill and ability.

* * *

A vicious grin filled Kallen's face as she danced with this enemy frame. This was the greatest challenge she'd ever faced in a Knightmare, and she was still winning, That odd shield it had was a pain in the ass, as was its sword, but they were nothing compared her with a control rig in close quarters.

She could tell that the pilot was beginning to tire and get desperate. Any second now he would pull a hail mary and she receive the opening to use her claw.

" _Kallen,_ " spoke up Master Lelouch in her head suddenly, " _I want that frame. Don't destroy it. You're free to kill the pilot, however._ "

Well that complicated things, but she could see why he wanted it.

"Yes, Master."

She swung twice in quick succession with her claw, forcing it to bob and weave around her attack. It took a swipe with its sword to gain some breathing room, but she batted the flat end upwards and delivered a solid punch to the cockpit. She could tell that she'd shaken the pilot, but he was clearly still conscious. It had successfully driven to his hail mary, however.

The frame took a step back and finally activated that jetpack thing on its back, using it to somersault above her as it attempted to deliver an overhead swing towards her back.

Close, but no cigar. She activated her own trump card and extended her claw to seize his cockpit. Using her frame's superior strength, she proceeded to slam the frame front-first into the hard pavement beneath them.

This time, the frame did not move again. The Irregulars stepped in and covered her as she ejected and located the exterior ejection lever of the downed frame's cockpit. She pulled it and got an eyeful of the enemy pilot. He was stocky and blonde, and his forehead had a large gash from where it had impacted with the console. Whoever built this frame had clearly not taken into account the pilot's safety. It didn't even have a harness.

Regardless, she slowly hauled the unconscious Britannian out and kicked him to the ground. Not having any other use for him, she drew her sidearm and casually double-tapped his head before sliding the cockpit back in and returning to her Guren to jump in once more.

She grabbed the now-limp frame in her claw and dragged it to the nearby hill where Master Lelouch was overseeing with his trucks, laying it at his feet like a hunting dog.

" _Brilliant, Kallen,_ " he praised as he surveyed the scene. " _I shall ensure that your Guren is the first to benefit from whatever tech Ashford can pull out of this frame._ "

Turning to follow his gaze, she looked upon the destruction they had left in their wake. The face of the mines were scarred with smouldering craters and illuminated by the burnt husks of enemy vehicles. The road leading up was equally scarred with the ashen remnants of the reinforcements.

Suddenly, a moonlit shadow fell over them.

* * *

"Christ," swore Lelouch to himself. "There's always something..."

An enormous airship filled the night sky above him. Three massive turrets on its front slowly lowered to take aim on his forces as Knightmares began shooting out from rails in the rear. Normally he'd be able to handle something like this, except for the fact that a massive green shield, identical to that of the enemy frame they'd just fought, covered its entire belly and shielded it from ground-based attacks.

Sighing, he activated the universal Black Knights comms. And he'd been _so_ close to a total victory. "All forces, begin immediate exfiltration. Infantry, return to your IFVs. Tandems and Sutherlands, cover them as they exit. Engage frames as necessary, but focus on getting out intact."

The shield flickered off for barely a second and the air vibrated as the cannons fired off and wiped three of his Sutherlands off the map.

Damn it. It wouldn't be enough to just exit. If he did so, that airship could just follow them and rain fire down the entire way back.

He needed something to pin it down while he exited...

Once again, the shield flickered and three more of his Sutherlands perished.

An idea struck him.

* * *

Earl Bryer continued pretending to be intimidated as his Master's forces received orders over their radio. Eventually, one of them pushed his pistol into the back of his head once more.

"The air defenses," he barked in rough Britannian, "turn them on that ship."

Concealing a smile at his Master's brilliance, he inputted the necessary commands for the system to ignore a friendly IFF beacon and set the massive airship as the primary target. The mountain shook as the flak cannons shot their first volley into the luminescent shield.

"Thank you very much," said the Black Knight, before pulling the trigger.

As the Britannian collapsed onto the console, the French sergeant holstered his pistol. "Let's move men! Back to the Puma!"

* * *

Claudio Darlton smirked as he charged the hideous Eleven frame that was escorting a retreating IFV. He lowered his Gloucester's lance and strafed left and right as it attempted to hit him with bursting autocannon fire. He closed within a handful of yards and prepared to spear the cockpit when the frame raised its left weapon and fired.

Next he knew, his frame was crashing to the ground but reporting no damages. His landspinners continued driving forwards, causing him to scrape along the ground on his face. Then the frame's legs exploded and his ejection mechanism triggered—sending him rocketing away right as a burst of automatic shotgun fire perforated where he had been less than a second ago.

* * *

Cornelia watched in impotent fury at being outplayed as the Elevens retreated right below her nose. Since the Avalons's weapons couldn't shoot through the its Blaze Luminous, it had to shut off for a fraction of a second as the weapons fired down at the ground.

So Zero now had the mine's air defenses firing so rapidly that the shields powering down for even a second meant that something would get through. And the Avalon hadn't been designed to sustain physical damage. Overall, it was quite fragile. That was why it had the Blaze Luminous system.

And thanks to the low angle of the shield, moving to pursue the retreating enemy would mean giving the SAM sites and flak cannons an angle on her flanks.

She was pinned until either the weapons ran out of ammo or friendly forces managed to shut them down from the inside.

Cursing up a storm, she drew her sword and buried it to the hilt in the headrest of her throne. The bridge crew very deliberately took an immediate interest in whatever screen was before them as she let loose her rage. Never had she been embaressed like this. She was an Imperial Princess. She was Britannia's Goddess of Victory. She did _not_ get outsmarted by _Numbers_!

Worse, her ground forces, even the Glaston Knights, had been wiped out by those four-legged monstrosities masquerading as Knightmares. They were apparently built with special weapons designed to trip up forces like hers.

Murder filled her gaze as she watched the last of the enemy frames disappear over the hill and into the night.

This would not go unanswered.

* * *

Once his Black Knights were safely away, Lelouch had his personal retinue begin loading their frames into the trucks they'd come it.

"But Master," asked Kallen frantically, "what about the mines? They're still operational."

Lelouch smacked his head cheekily. "Ahh, I knew that I was forgetting something!"

He walked up to the cab of one of the five trailers that hadn't brought a Knightmare and rapped on the window. When it rolled down, he looked up at the Shadow. "Initiate Plan S."

Then, without another word, he seated himself in the sedan with Kallen and Sayoko as Jeremiah took the driver's seat and sped away with the Irregulars taking up the SUV behind them.

"Plan S?" Kallen couldn't help but ask.

He smirked widely, and she immediately knew that she should never have doubted him. "S for 'Scorched Earth'."

* * *

Like the teeth of a bear trap, the roofs of the trailers Lelouch had left behind opened and lowered to the sides—revealing massive howitzer-style cannons the length of the trailers. Stabilizing legs emerged from the sides and buried themselves in the soft dirt as the cannons slowly rotated to take aim on the mountain miles away.

The sole Shadow operating them ensured that everything was in place before pulling the trigger of his detonator and speeding away on a dirtbike.

At the signal, the five automated cannons fired off a shell each, then self-destructed to erase any evidence.

Whistling terribly, the shells flew towards their target.

* * *

It had been twenty minutes, and the bloody air defenses were still firing. They should have melted to slag by this point, but apparently they were programmed to rotate fire so that other weapons could cool down. And it seemed that they had been stocked with enough ammo to sustain even under a siege.

All Cornelia could satisfy herself with was that at least she'd run the Elevens off before they'd managed to damage the mines.

A red warning light began flashing along the bridge and a klaxon went off as some unknown alert sounded. "Your Highness!" shrieked one of the bridge crewmen. "We have incoming artillery!"

"Targeting us?" she asked, concerned. Arcing artillery over the Blaze Luminous would be one of the best ways to hit the Avalon from a ground position.

The crewman inspected his screen, before shaking his head. "The trajectories have them hitting the mountainside, near the peak above the mineshafts."

Cornelia was about to ask another question when the enormous shells slammed into the designated positions and buried themselves deeply into the mountain. From her position on her ship's bridge, she could see some sort of red, crackling light emanate from the deep holes before all hell broke loose.

The snowy peak of the mountain _exploded_ in a flurry of steaming ash and boiling mud. The roaring avalanche snowballed down the mountain, and Cornelia could only watch in horror as it accumulated more and more material as it descended. It plowed through all three defensive rings like the weren't even there, simply adding them to its mass. When it reached the mineshafts, it poured down them like concrete filling a mold.

Slamming her head into her hands, Cornelia reflected that Father was not going to be happy.

* * *

In the hills outside Tokyo, five identical trailers opened up and fired on their own targets. Unlike their compatriots, however, these trailers fired multiple volleys of HE shells on a much different target before self-destructing.

* * *

Marcus slowly backed his truck up to the cargo crane. It was the last truckload that would be going out on the monthly shipment. The refineries were pretty much empty right now, and from what he'd heard on the military chatter, it might be a while before they were full again.

He put the truck into park and thought of the weekly poker game that was going on at base tonight. He was down thirty pounds to Odgers, and he intended to win it back.

There was a sudden, horrid whistling that Marcus only had a second to recognize from his time on the African front before he, his shipment, and every Sakuradite-laden boat on the harbor were turned into a literal hellscape.

* * *

Carine watched impassively through her personal quarters' window as the military-sector of the docks went up like a pink firecracker. Honestly, she was beyond caring at this point. She'd already received the report from Cornelia that Zero had buried the mines in a landslide that would put them out of commission for at least two months—not to mention the cost and time of reconstructing the defenses.

Blowing up the shipment ready to go out was just icing on the fucking cake.

Chuckling bitterly to herself, she took another drink of wine from her personal collection. It was a twelve-thousand pound vintage, but she swigged it like water straight from the bottle.

This was it.

Everyone who passed her in the halls scattered at her approach. Perhaps it was the bottle in her hand. Perhaps it was the blood on her clothes. Perhaps it was Giles' gun in her other hand.

She slowly ascended the steps to the roof of her citadel. The usual soldiers that were supposed to be manning the defenses up here were gone—having been sent to die at the mines.

Thus, nobody stopped her when she reached the edge of the roof and kept walking.


	14. Chapter 14: Pest Control

**And hello... again, readers. Neolyph here with yet more Darwin! I've finally reached the part in the story that I actually originally wanted to write, so I'm just banging out chapters here. This one's a tad shorter as its mostly tying up loose ends, but next chapter we will have a return to action. Absolutely _fantastic_ response last chapter btw guys, really motivated me to push through for this chapter. Thanks, you guys are great.**

 **Now, for reviews!**

 **Fenrir44: Leila yes, KoTR, no.**

 **Dany le fou: Nobody in Lelouch's army will be using the Lancelot as Kallen is his only Ace able to pilot it (without a control rig), but he will be cannibalizing it for technology to upgrade the Guren and his Knightmare forces in general.**

 **correnhimself316: In the color-coded map of the Code Geass factions that I downloaded and am using to plot out the political situation for the next act, Australia is independent, but I think that's unrealistic, especially considering New Zealand is listed as Britannian. In my CG-verse, Australia is a Britannian Area with an active resistance—so Lelouch may get involved eventually but they are not an independent power.**

 **And onward, my noble muse!**

Chapter 14: Pest Control

Lelouch rubbed his tired eyes, examining the monitors of his workstation. Now that Cornelia had apparently arrived to take over, he needed to keep abreast of whatever changes she implemented in the governmental and military structure.

And of course it just had to be Cornelia that was sent to stop him. Her presence posed both a strategic and personal dilemma for him.

In the scope of his plan for the conquest of Japan, he acknowledged that he'd gotten lucky in his first encounter with that airship of hers. He wouldn't always have an entire mountain of anti-air defenses to occupy her with while he disengaged—and as a guerrilla force he had no other answer to such a weapon. She could just fly it over one of the ghettos and wipe it off the face of the earth.

She would do it, too. Unlike Carine, his sister Cornelia despised nobility and would not let herself be cowed by their complaints. His threat of line assassination would not dissuade her from counter-attacking the ghettos or his bases.

But unfortunately, he couldn't kill her either. She was one of the four half-siblings he bore genuine affection for, along with Schneizel, Euphemia, and Clovis. He considered himself a monster, but even he had lines that he would not cross unless _absolutely_ necessary.

He needed her alive yet off the board. Along with that bloody airship.

Perhaps... both could be accomplished in one stroke.

If he could just get Cornelia seated before him, he was quite certain that he could persuade her to his side. The Emperor's crimes against him would be just as horrifying to her. And if Cornelia was here, that meant Euphy was as well. He knew that his elder sister doted on Euphy just as he did Nunnally. If he could convince her that his aims were for the benefit of people like their younger sisters, she would be his.

As for actually getting her before him, he could think of a few ways to accomplish that. The tricky part was that he couldn't kill anyone. His sister was famously dedicated to her soldiers. Killing them would mean alienating her. He was quite lucky that the knights she'd deployed earlier had all managed to eject.

Following a hunch, he pulled up Fulcrum's intelligence files. He knew that he'd seen designs for that airship before. There it was. It was one of the files his Geass moles in Schneizel's Camelot think tank had leaked him. He hadn't been particularly concerned about the project since his brother was currently in England waiting to invade Europe.

It seemed that he'd lent it to Cornelia.

His eyes roamed over the blueprint. Jackpot. Crew specifications. Required twenty trained specialists to pilot, plus whatever soldiers it was fielding. He thought back to the battle several hours ago. It had dropped in about thirty Gloucesters. Provided that was all of her knights, that brought the crew up to fifty.

So he needed to disable a shielded airship manned by fifty elite Britannian soldiers and capture the two princesses on board—all without killing anyone.

He pulled out his phone and texted Sayoko. Impossible infiltrations were her specialty. She'd analyze the blueprints, draw plans for his inspection, and put the crews of Shadows together.

Setting the issue to the side, he donned his Zero guise, triggered the lock on his office door, and activated a video call. Despite the late hour, the call was answered almost immediately.

"General Smilas," he greeted pleasantly. "I do hope that I didn't wake you."

The French general ignored the jape, clearly having been waiting for his call. He was a large, rugged man with graying feathered hair and a thick beard. Of all the notable figures in the EU, Smilas was one of the few that Lelouch respected. "Zero. I take it this call means that your mission tonight was successful?"

"See for yourself," he replied, forwarding the footage he'd taken of the mine landslide and his attack on the docks. The general's face filled with grim satisfaction as he watched the video.

"My compliments. I've never seen so effective a coup-de-grace."

"I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. Britannia's war machine will splutter and die within weeks—giving your minister his battle-less victory. Upon the arrival of your support, the EU will receive access to an additional seventy-percent of the world's Sakuradite, taken from Britannia."

Smilas nodded. "And the Union has full intentions of coming through on our end. I have four carrier groups out of French South Africa stationed just on the border of Federation waters. I'll give the order right after this call for them to move forward, and they shall be there within five days. Once your island is secured from counter-attack, Minister Philippe will have the Hemicycle recognize you as Emperor of Neo-Japan and a full member nation of the Union."

"Precisely. Do hurry with those carriers. Charles isn't going to like having his prized military-industrial sector starved until he can find another tappable source of Sakuradite in his empire. By my men's estimates, the Britannian fleet in the Hawaiian islands is only five days out as well."

Of course, that estimate did not take into account the fact that as far as the Britannians were concerned, he was still just a terrorist.

"I'm with the fleet myself, Zero. We'll make for Japan at full speed. It was pricey, but we bribed the Chinese Eunuchs into giving us a one-time pass through their waters, so its a straight shot. If we pull this off, I'll personally kiss you on the mouth when I get there—or mask, rather."

Lelouch chuckled to himself. "I think that I'll take a pass. I've been meaning to thank you by the way for recommending the Wild Geese mercenaries to me. They've been most invaluable in getting my soldiers up to par."

"It was nothing," dismissed Smilas, grinning. "Pip's an old friend, and his men have been broke since Minister Philippe ended our hiring of mercs. With your deep pockets, I was just killing two birds with one stone."

"Such a short-minded policy. Mercenaries have been a part of warfare since time immemorial."

"Believe me, I know. Napoleon founded his empire with mercenaries. Yet it seems that the good minister is doing everything in his power to strip France of its greatest leader's legacies."

Beneath his impassive mask, Lelouch smiled. Smilas was definitely of a similar mind to him. So long as he could temper the man's ambitions, he could very well form the integral core for his mid-game. Like a well-played Rook.

He conveyed a conspiratorial look through his faceplate. "Such conversations are ill-suited for a medium such as this. When you land in my country, you and I shall share a drink and we will pontificate on these matters further."

Smilas' face turned intrigued. "I shall greatly look forward to that conversation, Zero. With that, I bid you _adieu_."

The screen went dark, and Lelouch removed his mask.

"Are you going to come to bed now?" pleaded Kallen, lounging on his office couch like a cat. "If you're insufficiently motivated, I'm sure I could track down Sayoko..."

He sighed. It was nearly dawn, and he'd done all that he could for the moment. The revolution wasn't going anywhere for the moment, and if he didn't get to sleep soon his critical thinking would start to suffer.

"Fine," he relented. "I do still need to reward you for tonight."

* * *

The sake flowed freely at the Matsumoto Black Knights base as its soldiers celebrated their victory over the Britannians. Videos had circulated, courtesy of Master Zero, of him obliterating both the Mt. Fuji mines and the Tokyo docks with artillery. Rumors were even going around that the Vicereine had taken her own life out of shame for her inability to beat them.

Had that blasted airship not shown up, it could have been a total victory. But even with its interference, Tetsuo reflected that Master Zero had still managed to pull a miracle from his back pocket.

Even the Frenchmen were having fun. The sergeants had told them all to drink in moderation, then proceeded to outdrink every man there. Perhaps it was their way of showing dominance.

A toast had been proposed to every man lost that night. In total, there had been twenty-two casualties—nine of which had been fatal. Six of them were Sutherland pilots blown up by that airship's cannons before Master Zero locked it down, and the other three were infantrymen who'd fallen during the taking of the security center. Only one of them had been from Matsumoto, but every one of them had a drink in their honor.

Master Zero had promised them V-Day within four months, but Tetsuo was starting to think that he was just being cautious. He wasn't sure how many Knightmares the Occupation still had stashed, but it couldn't be many.

Ken told him not to get his hopes up, but Ken also sucked at parties.

* * *

Hubert slowly poked his mirror around the corner and was just about to move through when he froze—throwing his arm out to keep Winston back.

"Motion sensor," he hissed. It was small and inconspicuous, almost blending into the dark corridor of the Ashford sewer system, but it was there, tucked into the upper corner of the upcoming intersection.

They'd been down in these bloody tunnels for hours, and this was the first proper security system he'd seen. They were close.

It was a little-known fact of motion detectors that, to keep them from going off all the time, they required a minimum threshold of movement before they would trigger. Thus, a sufficiently patient intruder could actually bypass one by the simple means of moving _very_ slowly.

"Hold," he instructed Winston, before reaching into his pack and tearing a strip of duct tape off his roll. He then crept at an agonizingly slow pace down the corridor and up to the motion sensor. He very-nearly started when he spotted the metal grate of a deployable gun turret stationed in the roof of the intersection. Just how fucking paranoid _was_ Ashford?

Now sweating at the realization that he was a twitch away from involuntary perforation, he continued his advance towards the sensor. With deliberate, measured movements, he carefully placed the tape over the sensor.

Nothing happened.

He exhaled deeply before turning around to beckon his partner onward and spotting the _second_ motion sensor, carefully hidden in the opposite corner to cover the first.

Oh fuck a duck.

With a mechanical whir, the hatch opened and a mounted HMG lowered out to immediately lock on to him. He managed to dive out the way of the first burst, but then he was prone when it adjusted its aim a second time.

He stared down the cold, soulless barrel of the machine that would take his life, before there was a cacophony of distant rifle fire that snapped the turret's hinge. It whirred downwards, still obviously trying to take aim and failing.

"Move!" barked Winston, still holding his smoking weapon. After shaking off the shock, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted for his partner, snatching up his discarded pack without even breaking stride. Once security forces arrived, these tunnels would become a death trap. They'd have to exfiltrate the same way they'd arrived.

And this time, he wouldn't have a rebreather or diving suit.

* * *

Cornelia looked down at the cold, metal table upon which lay the mangled body of her half-sister. She'd never been close with the girl—in fact, she'd quite disliked her. The vicious little brat had constantly bullied Euphemia when they'd been children, and Empress ne Britannia had always wielded her influence to shelter the girl from any consequences for her actions.

But despite all of that, she'd been family. Not close family, but family.

It would have to be a closed-casket funeral. The fall from the towering Viceroy's citadel had reduced her sister to a pulp when she impacted the ground outside. She just thanked god that Euphemia hadn't been there to see it. Her sister was far too sensitive to be witness such a thing.

"Prepare her for burial," she instructed the medical examiner. The woman nodded, drawing a sheet over the body to hide it from sight.

Turning on her heel, she marched out of the private morgue. Guilford, who had been waiting outside to provide her with some privacy, immediately took up his usual post at her shoulder.

No words were exchanged as she stepped inside the shuttle and had it take her back up to the Avalon. All in all, she much preferred it as a command center over the citadel. Purists like Carine's men still treated her and Euphemia with thinly-veiled disdain for their reputation as childhood friends of the 'commoner royals', Lelouch and Nunnally vi Britannia.

She'd invested an inordinate amount of time and money into uncovering the fates of her two closest half-siblings, but she'd never found a thing. They'd simply vanished into the night, along with most of Empress Marianne's household.

Father had refused to task Pendragon Intelligence with finding them, either. It was one of the few things she'd never forgiven him for. 'Worthless' he'd called them.

Sitting herself down at her desk, she composed herself for another conversation with the man.

She was kept waiting for twenty minutes before he deigned to appear on her video screen—the camera angled upwards to highlight his imposing stature. "What is it, child?" he demanded.

"Your daughter Carine is dead, Your Majesty. It appears that she killed herself."

He didn't so much as blink. "And what of it?"

She'd been half-expecting such a reaction, so she didn't lose her composure. "I simply figured that you should be informed in person, Your Majesty."

"In the future, don't bother," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "If a pathetic runt like her was so weak as to take her own life, then she was never fated to rule and is therefore not my daughter. You might as well inform me of the death of a blade of grass as a groundskeeper trims it. Take over as Vicereine and sort the Area out, then return to the European front."

A grimace made its way onto her face. She could just as easily imagine him speaking of Euphemia's death in such a manner and it made her blood boil. At times she questioned why she even fought for her father—but what else would she do? She was a royal, and royals served the Emperor. And she knew that a refusal to serve would mean that Father's gaze would turn to Euphemia for political marriage or worse.

"The war in Europe may no longer be tenable, Your Majesty. I suspect that Carine took her own life because this 'Zero' figure attacked the Sakuradite mines and buried them in a landslide that will take months to clear—and she feared your retribution upon her. But we will soon face a massive Sakuradite shortage."

The Emperor's face reddened with fury, and Cornelia was sickened at this greater reaction than the news of his daughter's suicide. "Exact vengeance upon this 'Zero' figure. Do whatever it takes; burn the entire native population to the ground if you have to."

"I will require additional reinforcements to secure this Area, Your Majesty. Carine's forces have dwindled down to a mere hundred Sutherlands, total, while Zero had somehow amassed a small army."

He narrowed his violet eyes. "I will dispatch a portion of the Pearl Harbor Pacific Fleet to escort a shipment of Sutherlands. Know that if this insurrection is not dealt with by the month's end, I will be... most displeased."

"As you say, Your Majesty."

The video screen blinked out instantly, but she stayed glaring at it a good deal longer.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Charles _seethed_. He'd been _so close_ to successfully taking Europe. The last six years of painstaking preparation were about to go to waste, and he wasn't a young man anymore. He was gradually beginning to accept that he may not be able to take all of the Thought Elevators in his lifetime—especially with Vincent still missing.

It had seemed so simple in those boyhood days. A world without lies.

But the harsh and cruel realities of the world had hardened him in these days. Killing God. Perhaps it was simply the infantile dream of two children who'd been chewed up and spat out by an uncaring universe.

He was sixty-two now, and he still had only a third of the Thought Elevators under his control. If the Chinese would stop renegotiating the terms of Odysseus' marriage to their Empress he could get two-thirds, but with this sudden weakening of his power base they might pull out altogether.

And even if he got the Chinese, he would have to fight tooth and nail for Europe and Africa. Perhaps if they continued their internal squabbling they would weaken enough that he could reinvade and conquer them, but there was a definite possibility that Cornelia's interrupted invasion of Spain would be the wake up call they needed to organize and repel him at least until the end of his lifetime.

But if not his dream of a world free from lies, what was he striving for? What was he living for?

He'd have to talk with Marianne about these matters. Perhaps she would be able to provide answers.

* * *

Lelouch awoke to Sayoko softly shaking his shoulder in bed next to him. He must have been more tired than he thought. Usually, he was a rather light sleeper.

"Master, there's been a security breach."

The words made him snap up like the bed had been set ablaze. Kallen whined in her sleep at the loss of his warmth, but did not awake. "Where?"

"In the Ashford underground, Master, by our hidden maintenance entrance. Someone tripped the motion sensors, and the response team found the machine gun turret shot to pieces. They've initiated a search, but nothing's been found thus far."

He wracked his brain, trying to think of appropriate measures. "Put everything on lockdown—and have the Shadows perform a full security sweep on the _whole_ of Reuben and Ashford in general. If the intruders were in the underground, they were there for Ashford. Have the PMC forces sweep the tunnels and find out how they got in—then close it up."

"Yes, Master," answered Sayoko, standing to dress.

Closing his eyes, he thought further. "Also, bring Nunnally and Milly underground, just to be safe. Don't tell Nunnally about the full extent of the operations down here, of course."

His faithful assassin nodded once more, slipping her uniform on and padding off to relay his orders.

* * *

"Is this report accurate?" asked Schneizel, looking up over his tablet at his manservant and only true friend, Kanon Maldini.

"I'm afraid so, Your Highness. Your sister Cornelia penned it personally, and Area 11's DIS office verified the figures and events listed."

That was distressing. Two hundred Sutherlands in themselves were nothing to sneeze at, especially in a land as small as Area 11, but when paired with an additional two hundred unknown but apparently effective Knightmares mixed with mechanized infantry? It was practically overkill.

At least it seemed that their Father had realized the same thing, as the order had just gone out for two shiploads of reinforcement frames backed by naval support to make way for the besieged Area. It seemed the logical, natural move to make in response to the incursion, but something in his gut told him that it was playing into a larger scheme.

This 'Zero' figure was obviously crafty, and it was clear that he was backed by the Europeans. Not only were those IFVs he was fielding of German make, but a move like sabotaging the Fuji mines and blowing up the docks did not benefit him. It would only benefit the Europeans.

And he was afraid that the move had worked. He was expecting the phone call from Minister Philippe any day now with terms for a lengthy ceasefire. He'd have to take it, as well. While they would be reluctant to do it, the French military at least was strong enough to wage an effective war on a Sakuradite-starved Britannia.

Their saving grace was that, as slaves to the popular opinion, the EU was always reluctant to escalate wars. If they could ensure peace for the remainder of their terms, they would.

Unfortunately, Minister Philippe had just started his second term—meaning that he wouldn't settle for less than the entirety of his five-year incumbency.

It was vexing, to say the least. He'd spent the last six years coaxing, advising, and threatening the various factions of European Africa's native population into an effective fighting force, the FPA, and they'd made significant ground. Though fractured and disorganized, they now held all of Africa North of the Congo—denying the EU their famous breadbasket and resource bin. A ceasefire would deprive the FPA of official Britannian support and give the Colonial forces an opportunity to dig their heels in and push back.

So much time, wasted. But at least a few years of nonaggression would give him time to make sure an incident like this never happened again. His mind returned to the Zero issue.

So the Europeans were supplying Zero in exchange for him winning their war without them having to actually fight. But what if the relationship went deeper than that? Short-sighted terrorists tried to 'liberate' their countries from Britannian rule all the time—never stopping to realize that even a complete victory would be nullified within days as Britannia, which controlled a third of the world, simply threw soldiers at the problem until it was sorted.

But it was clear that Zero was not short-sighted. If he was waging such open war on the Occupation, he must have a plan to prevent that exact circumstance from happening. Did he have a larger deal with the Europeans? The backing of another superpower would be one of the only things capable of keeping Britannia from retaking an Area.

Especially when that Area contained seventy-percent of the world's Sakuradite, which was rapidly proving itself the miracle compound that would fuel the future.

Yes, he could imagine Area 11 proving a lucrative enough target for the Europeans to snap up. Normally this was something he could sort out at the negotiation table, trading minor concessions in exchange for the withdrawal of their backing, but that much Sakuradite, especially when it meant denying it to Britannia, would prove too much to give up.

If the EU was intending to secure Area 11 from Britannia, that meant the deploying of forces—either by land through Russia or by sea from French South Africa or German East Africa. By sea was far more likely, strategically-speaking.

European naval forces were inbound, then. And since resupply and reinforcement would be difficult with the Chinese waters between them, it was likely a _significant_ force.

Fortunately, three quarters of the Britannian Pacific Fleet were stationed in the Marianne vi Britannia Naval Base in Northern Area 11. They should be able to repel any sea-borne invasion force.

But both Zero and the Europeans should _know_ that. Unless...

"Pen a message to Cornelia," he ordered Kanon. "Tell her that this 'Zero' will attempt to attack the MvB Base before the reinforcements from the Hawaiian Islands arrive. If he's successful, then Area 11 is lost."

* * *

Lelouch sat in his usual head chair at the emergency board meeting called to address the unexpected intrusion. He was completely exhausted, but this was not a time when he could afford to be complacent.

"Sayoko, report."

The assassin slid him a photograph of a small, nondescript black strip barely the size of a postage stamp—attached to some sort of wooden surface.

"It's a bug," she explained. "My Shadows found it in Reuben's office, stuck to his desk."

Ashford had the grace to look sheepish at letting such a security breach occur under his watch.

"Doesn't his office have clean-room systems installed?"

Sayoko nodded, her face steeped in concern. "It does. We've never seen a bug like this one before though. We missed it on the first sweep because nobody should be able to build a bug this small or thin, nor one that could break through our counter-surveillance tech. That this bug did both is... worrying."

"Are you sure it was broadcasting successfully?"

"As sure as we can be, with tech like this. We hit it with an ECT scanner, best on the market, and it was still barely able to pick up the signal."

Lelouch furrowed his brow. If their adversary had technology like this at their disposal, then these weren't snooping rivals or even regular spies. These were high-end espionage types. Black-ops types. He wracked his brain, trying to think of every loose thread he and his organization still had hanging. Then it hit him.

"Reuben," he asked slowly, "those auditors you've been giving the run-around for the last month, were any of them ever in your office?"

* * *

As casually as he could under the circumstances, Frank packed up his auditing kit in preparation to flee like a bat out of hell. He and three others had been assigned as the 'night crew' for the Ashford investigation. They'd been looking for more discrepancies all night, but he'd just received the coded phone message telling to evacuate as quickly and covertly as possible and make for the emergency rendezvous.

He'd just finished shoving his notes into the briefcase when the door to the conference room opened and his blood went cold.

Slowly, he turned and was faced with four machine pistols aimed to gun down anyone who so much as twitched.

"Going somewhere?" asked a Britannian with purple eyes.

Within minutes he and his coworkers were securely ziptied to the uncomfortable office chairs they'd been provided, and he was beginning to sorely regret his life choices. 'Corporate work pays better, but government sector has more perks' he'd been told. Perks like getting tied to a chair and probably tortured because you audited the wrong guy.

"Look," said the Britannian boy, his voice weary, "I'm just going to do something that will save me time and you pain. _Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ._ "

The words washed over Frank like a soothing breeze. Suddenly, he knew that this boy's cause was greater than anything he could ever pursue, ever amount to. His life, his loyalties, his goals were like the characteristics of an ant before a god.

"Of course."

"Christ!" screamed his coworker, Ted. "What the fuck is that!"

But Frank ignored him. "Identify yourself, and explain why you're here," instructed his Master.

"Frank Anthony. I work for the Britannian Office of Secret Intelligence, the Emperor's personal secret intelligence service. My boss, the Emperor's spymaster Robert Vanderbilt, was sent here to keep an eye on the Area—and part of the assignment was to look into the Ashford Consortium. Vanderbilt became particularly suspicious when a bug he routinely placed in Ashford's office recorded a secret phone call in which he referred to working a covert project with a royal."

"I see..." said his Master, his eyes closed in concentration as he processed the facts. "Where are Vanderbilt and his men now? And where are they based?"

He thought about it for a second. "I don't know. They were originally based in the Tokyo Royale's penthouse, but the message I just received called for an evacuation and movement to the emergency rendezvous. I'm unsure as to whether Vanderbilt himself will personally be there, but someone who knows his location certainly will."

* * *

Hubert had scrubbed himself for twenty minutes in the shower of the backup motel room, and he still reeked of shit. He recalled reading a book once about a character who escaped prison by crawling through a three-hundred yard sewer pipe. Evidently, that prison was nowhere near the size of Ashford's underground system.

He just wanted this whole mess to be over, but he and Winston still had to wait for the financial team to get their scrawny asses down here so that they could link up and make for the ERD.

"I swear to god, Winston, if those fucking eggheads aren't here in ten minutes, I'm leaving them."

His partner ashed his cigarette in the sink, glaring at the disabled smoke detector. "I haven't worked with them before. They do know the evasion protocols so that they're not followed, right?"

"Fortunately, yeah. Everyone Vanderbilt uses had to go through at least Basic. So they got evasion, counter-surveillance, interrogation resistance, the whole nine yards."

"Well that's a fucking relief," muttered Winston, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Both men jumped when there was a knock on the door. Winston produced an automatic pistol from his kit and took up a covering position while Hubert moved for the door. He pressed his silenced handgun to the cheap motel door and peered through the keyhole.

"Thank Christ," he swore, unlatching the door and pulling the four analysts inside. "About fucking time you lot got here. Were there complications?"

"No. We just had to take a few side streets because Ted here thought that we might have been followed, but it just turned out to be a taxi working a route. We're clean."

"Good," said Hubert, nodding his head. "Good. How's it look out there?"

"Quiet. It's barely dawn. Streets are pretty much empty, and this motel's deserted. Why does this room smell like shit?"

Both he and Winston put their pistols away and started packing up their kit. "Because some of us can't work in a goddamn office all day. You've all got your paperwork, notes, and anything that could possibly be linked back to you? Because once Ashford traces that alarm we tripped back to us, he's going to come down on us like the wrath of God. _Anything_ that can lead him back to us, will."

"Of course," said the analyst, setting his briefcase on the bed and flipping it open. He rummage inside for a brief second, before exclaiming. "Here it is."

He looked up to see what the man was holding, when his face went white. He'd never used them himself, but he recognized a tear-gas grenade when he saw one. Especially one missing its pin.

The room immediately clouded with noxious, horrifying gas. It hit him in the face like a solid punch, clawing its way down his throat and setting his eyes ablaze. He coughed uncontrollably, stumbling for the exit. Unable to see, he tripped over the bed, bounced off the springy mattress, and collapsed to the floor.

His leg screamed in agony as someone, likely Hubert by the position, accidentally stepped on it in their blind quest for escape from the gas.

Time seemed to stop working. He lost all perception of it. Large, rough hands grabbed him and he tried to struggle against it, but he was too busy trying to remember how breathing worked.

Next he knew, he was laying choking on the pavement outside, his hands were ziptied behind his back, and his vision was filled with mucus and people in gas masks.

One of the figures removed his mask, and his world turned red and purple.

* * *

He was being a tad paranoid, Robert knew, but on the other hand, it was only paranoia if nobody was out to get you. In his line of work, some was _always_ out to get you.

Pulling up an entire investigation and relocating may have seemed an overreaction to a single alarm trip during an infiltration, but in his career he'd seen far too many operations go south thanks to a lack of due diligence.

This dockside warehouse may not have been as luxurious as the Royale, but it was secure and the only people aware of its location were loyal to him and trained in anti-interrogation methods. It was as safe as he could be, and he could still conduct the investigation into Ashford and Zero from here.

He acknowledged that he'd not dug up much on Zero, but it was practically impossible given the circumstances. DIS agents were surveying the ghettos 24/7, and they'd come up with nothing. He'd read the reports. When dealing with an ethnic group of which you possessed _no_ agents, it was not feasible to do more than distant surveillance, and the DIS had that covered. With guerrilla terrorists like Zero, one could only be reactive.

It was on the Ashford side that he was much more curious. Machine gun turrets in his sewers? It was clear that there was something down there he was willing to kill for. Now that he knew, there were a few options still open to investigate further—bribery, blackmail, espionage. He'd crack the man's secrets.

At least now that Carine was dead, one of his targets had been taken off the list. He hadn't even needed to kill her himself.

Charles was going to give him an earful once he got back to the Mainland though. It didn't matter that those mines blowing up had not been his fault—the man would just want someone to scream at.

And the search for his Master was still proving fruitless. The JLF were still in the dark, and no amount of scouring would track them down when the Area was in such a dire state.

He might actually have to evacuate the Area completely. He had a sense for when a government was about to collapse, and the current Occupation was right on the verge.

"Sir," reported one of his agents, pulling him from his thoughts, "the infiltration and analyst teams have finally arrived. Shall I let them in?"

"Of course," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. Two of his men slid open the large door at the end of the warehouse and a dilapidated white van rolled in. It pulled up to the center of the warehouse. Several of his men approached the vehicle to tell it to back up.

Suddenly, both windows in the front of the vehicle were rolled down and several cylinders were thrown out each side. "Flashbangs!" one of his men yelled an instant before they activated.

He hadn't acted fast enough to look away or cover his ears. It felt like he'd just gone three rounds with Hercules. His ears rang, his vision was useless. He stumbled backwards out of his chair, his head slamming into the concrete floor and further aggravating his aching skull. It was terrifying, being completely senseless. He had no idea what was going on around him.

A pair of gruff hands wrenched him towards his feet, and he instinctively lashed out. What he hit felt like flesh, but it was still like punching a brick wall.

His attacker ignored the blow, slamming him over his desk and forcing his hands behind his back. All he could hear was the constant ringing, but he could feel cold metal handcuffs click shut around his wrists.

Hands like catcher's mitts pressed themselves down onto his back, keeping him pinned to his desk. He thrashed like a hooked fish, but it was no use.

There was a panic button under his desk that would alert the rest of the OSI to this intrusion, but since he still couldn't see he didn't know where it was in relation to him. Desperate, he started swinging his free legs in what he thought was underneath the desk, but all he got was banged shins.

Finally, his vision faded back in and he got an eyeful of his warehouse. All twenty-three of the men he'd had with him were pressed to the floor in various stages of unconsciousness and pacification. Some had tranquilizer darts sticking from their bodies, others bruises from clubbing. All had handcuffs securing them, courtesy of the dozen unknowns in black uniforms and white masks now occupying the warehouse.

Worse, two of his own men were holding rifles on several of their coworkers. That was impossible. His agents were some of the most vetted men in Britannia. The idea of them turning traitor was all but inconceivable.

The brute holding him down removed a single hand and he heard a gruff voice report over presumably an earpiece, "Warehouse secured, Your Highness."

Well at least he was finally going to meet the prince in charge. Perhaps he'd be able to leverage his position in the OSI. No royal could risk angering the Emperor, after all.

But the figure who entered, flanked by more masked figures, was _not_ a Britannian prince. He knew every single one of them by sight, and this one was not among them. Some sort of EU royalty then? The heir to one of their remaining monarchies? What the hell was Ashford doing dealing with him then?

"Robert Vanderbilt, I presume?" the prince inquired in a cultured, urbane voice. He spoke Britannian with no accent. Odd.

Wait... he'd seen that face before, those eyes. He knew them from somewhere...

They were the Emperor's eyes. And there was famously only a single royal child who shared the Emperor's eyes. One who had gone missing without a trace nine years ago...

"Lelouch vi Britannia," he growled. His Master had despised the entire vi Britannia line, and had always been inordinately displeased that they'd disappeared before he got the chance to permanently and personally dispose of them.

He touched a hand to his chest. "You know of me, I'm flattered. But let us skip the pleasantries, shall we?"

The boy's eyes glowed with a crimson sigil that Vanderbilt only knew all too well. And suddenly it all clicked, and he knew that he'd lost.

"Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ."

* * *

Jeremiah drove him and Sayoko back to his Ashford manor, where he climbed back into bed. Kallen was amusingly still asleep, but the second he crawled in she instinctively cuddled into his side. It was quite adorable. Sayoko stripped and flanked him from the other side.

How he'd ever gone to sleep without the warmth of a woman or two in his bed, he'd never know.

He reflected on how close he and Fulcrum had been to discovery. Had Vanderbilt and his men gone unnoticed, all of his plans could have been undone.

At least he'd managed to profit from tonight's little escapade. Robert Vanderbilt would continue acting as Emperor Charles' faithful spymaster, but secretly his loyalty would always belong to Lelouch vi Britannia.

Another obstacle had been cleared from his path to world domination.

He chuckled, despite himself. Whenever he said that in his head, he sounded like a supervillain. But then, he supposed that no hero ever had plans to conquer the world. Heroes generally never had plans _at all_.

Evil had its perks.

Security would be tightened in response to the near-catastrophe. Fulcrum's financial team would be giving Ashford's books a thorough cleaning, and the man himself would be assigned a personal Shadow to provide constant counter-intelligence services in the future. _That_ avenue at least would be closed off from any future inquisitive parties or agencies.

Nunnally and Milly had been brought back up from underground and assured that the threat had passed. He didn't like worrying Nunnally or involving her in his work, but he also couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to her as a result of it.

For her better world, he would push forward and persevere. For his vengeance, he would push forward and persevere.

VJ-Day was on the horizon. Five days to clear the path for the Smilas' navy. To clear Cornelia and Euphemia from the board. To take the MvB Naval Base out of action. To assault the Tokyo Settlement and the Citadel.

To think that six years of planning would come down to a five-day stretch, where he would achieve either total victory or total defeat. Only time would tell.

The clock was ticking, but for now he needed sleep.

* * *

Cornelia inspected the reports from her office in the Avalon with a great deal of frustration. By her brother Schneizel's evaluation, the European Union had a massive naval force inbound to take the Area within five days.

Now, this exact circumstance was why three quarters of the Pacific Fleet were stationed in Area 11, but she now faced a conundrum. The base was the softest target in the Area. Without those ships acting as additional security, it would be almost pathetically easy for Zero to take, regardless of its existing garrison. And if the base was taken, the fleet would have no fuel, leaving them sitting ducks for the EU navy.

But by keeping them in port, she left them at risk for direct attack by Zero, which would make protecting the base a moot point.

If the military section of the Tokyo harbor weren't currently still ablaze she could reposition them there, but it seems that Zero had preempted that move. Never in her life had she been put in such a dire situation.

But she couldn't just accept defeat. Her only move available was to be aggressive—to take an action that would force Zero into the open, then crush him.

Terrorists like him lived and died on public perception. If she launched an attack on one of the Eleven ghettos, he would be forced to either respond or lose face with the people he claimed to represent. She knew of his threat of assassination on the nobility, but in the face of losing the Area completely, that was an acceptable loss.

Acquiring the forces would be tricky, as the Gloucesters she'd brought had been destroyed by those abominable quadruped Knightmares Zero was fielding. She might just have to fly the Avalon over a ghetto and start firing until Zero showed his face.

Euphy wouldn't like it, but she had long grown accustom to performing actions that her beloved little sister wouldn't like in the name of keeping her safe. Unfortunately, she couldn't leave her in the Vicereine's Citadel. She didn't trust any of Carine's Purist soldiers. They reeked of incompetence and disloyalty. The only one with a modicum of competency had been the Countess-General Nu, but even she was a devout Purist and therefore untrustworthy.

Her course decided, she pulled up a map of the Area and started planning. The first order of business was Carine's State Funeral, but that would only keep her occupied for a day.

The clock was ticking, but for now she needed to plan.


	15. Chapter 15: Family Reunion

***Cough* So... hi... again. Uhh, Neolyph here with more Darwin! I guess I'm just dying to get to the second act of this story, so I'm really banging out the chapters here. Writing the LelouchxCornelia scene was difficult, and I didn't feel like retreading the same ground with Euphy so I (kind of) cheated a little bit, but I think it still works. Let me know your thoughts.**

 **Now, for reviews!**

 **cerberus328: We will see Kaguya eventually. She's saving herself for her wedding night with Zero-sama.**

 **kevblkred: I did read ROTBP. I think its problem was that, while it had scope, it overexpanded and didn't have a centralized plot thread to work around. The scope of this story will be expanding _significantly_ next act.**

 **correnhimself316: For Act 2, I'll post either an AN or dedicated reference chapter giving a rundown of the existing political situation of the CG-Verse as I have set it up. As part of it, I'll post a link to my master map, which is what I'm primarily using to work out the Act 2 plot. Fortunately, it won't spoil much, but it will save me from having to infodump this stuff in the actual chapters.**

 **And on with the Lelouchness!**

Chapter 15: Family Reunion

Euphemia felt like a prisoner. A lonely princess locked away in a tower by her overbearing sister—constantly dragged along to exotic and foreign locales, but barely allowed to even look out the window. Her life just consisted of tutors, guards, and locks.

Like a treasured but caged songbird.

The worst part was that she couldn't even hate Cornelia for it. Ever since Aunt Mary's death and the disappearance of Lelouch and Nunna, her sister had become extremely overprotective. It had shaken her, to see what could happen to royal children under Father's watch, and how nonchalant his response to the matter could be. Euphemia couldn't deny that it had sickened her as well.

So like a caged bird she continued to sing and keep her spirits up, hoping that one day when she turned old enough, she would be allowed to stretch her wings and fly. But somehow she doubted it.

At least on the Avalon she had somewhat free reign, if only because she couldn't slip out due to it being a few hundred yards in the air at all times. The only place she wasn't allowed was the bridge, mainly because Cornelia didn't want her accidentally witnessing a military operation.

In a way, she was somewhat glad of that. She ultimately acknowledged that the things her sister did were necessary for her protection under Father but it still left an unpleasant taste in her mouth to have her sister committing horrific acts for her safety when she was but miles away. Yet all she could do was temper her sister as much as possible and turn her gaze away from what she could not.

She examined the three outfits her handmaiden Elizabeth had laid out for her. All three were black funeral clothes for Carine's service today. The first was far too showy for such a somber occasion. The neckline of the second displayed too much of her figure for comfort.

The third it was. She merely gestured to it, and Elizabeth moved in from the corner to assist her into it. Normally she dressed herself, but dresses such as these were designed to require aid to don. It was supposed to be a symbol of status, but to her it just seemed needlessly obtuse.

Carine killing herself... the notion still shocked her to the core. She'd actually arrived at the Vicerine's Citadel while it was happening, but the second the news had reached her, Cornelia's guards had confined her to the shuttle.

"Her Highness has requested that you breakfast with her this morning before the service," Elizabeth informed her, running a brush through her long pink hair.

"Of course," she replied. Why did Cornelia always insist on such formal requests? They were sisters, for heaven's sake. Their rooms were adjacent! They'd bathed together as children, along with Lelouch and Nunna! Boundaries like that were a bit of a lost cause by this point.

Elizabeth drew the strings along the back of the corset, tightening it around her chest—although fortunately not too tight. Her last handmaiden Linda hadn't been quite as... endowed as herself, and thus tended to go overboard with the corset strings.

"All set, m'lady," she announced, pulling back.

Euphemia stood, flexing under the formal ensemble to ensure that she could still move alright. After seeing that she could, she turned and nodded to Elizabeth. "Thank you very much. That will be all."

The woman curtseyed and departed for the small servants' quarters.

Brushing a stray hair from her face, Euphemia made her way to the Avalon's royal dining room, where Cornelia was already seated in her own mourning attire. The dark black and silver military uniform only made her sister look more intimidating. Like some kind of avenging Valkyrie.

But despite that, Cornelia's face was soft, bearing the tenderness that these days was reserved exclusively for when they were alone. She hated what the tragedy of the vi Britannia family had done to her sister—how it had hardened her so.

"You do know that if you want to eat breakfast with me, you can just ask right? Or has the military life so irrevocably drilled the chain of command into you so much that it now applies to your little sister as well?"

Finally, a small smile illuminated Cornelia's face. "Watch your tone, young lady, or I'll have you demoted."

"Why stop there?" she joked, seating herself across from her sister at the long, formal dining table and assembling a plate for herself. "I'll take a court martial if you have it."

"No military tribunal would ever convict you," countered Cornelia, chuckling melodically and reaching across and pinching her cheeks. "You're too adorable."

She pouted. She was eighteen years old now and had filled out nicely, but all she ever got called was 'adorable' or, if the individual was _extraordinarily_ daring, 'beautiful'. Thanks to either Cornelia or one of her soldiers always looking over her shoulder whenever she interacted with men, they either treated her as a child or as some sort of forbidden goods.

Admittedly, she knew that Cornelia faced a similar problem. All of her soldiers viewed her exclusively as a general, and every other man she dealt with was terrified of her reputation as some sort of bloodthirsty amazon.

There were a few minutes of comfortable silence as both siblings ate. Euphemia could tell that her sister was avoiding something, but she decided to await it out. Eventually, her patience was rewarded.

"I'm going to be commencing an operation in the next few few days," Cornelia said, neatly slicing an omelette with her fork, "but I don't trust the provincial military, so I'm afraid that I have to take you with me. As it will be a somewhat risky combat operation, I'll need you to stay in your quarters and obey any orders my men give you, understand?"

She nodded at the familiar speech from whenever Cornelia didn't have a safe hideout to stuff her in while she was on the field.

Cornelia removed a golden pocket watch from her uniform, a birthday present from her, and checked the time.

"Finish up," she instructed. "It would be bad form to be late for Carine's service, horrid girl though she was."

"Be nice. Carine may have been... _difficult_ , but she was still family."

"That's why we're attending her funeral, sister, but dying doesn't automatically make you a better person."

* * *

It was with an air of moderate bemusement that Lelouch watched Carine's state funeral. In fact, he actually laughed aloud when the Emperor spent about fifteen seconds of his speech actually talking about Carine, and then spent the rest of it preaching the virtues of Social Darwinism and the glorious Britannian Empire.

The only tolerable part was seeing Cornelia and Euphemia, all grown up. He'd seen images of them in news publications and from his various intelligence reports, but it took on a new light with the knowledge that he'd be reunited with them any day now. Of all his childhood memories, his fondest were of those carefree days in the palace gardens with Nunnally, Euphy, and Cornelia.

He wondered if she still went by 'Euphy'. It had been a childhood nickname Nunnally had dubbed her with when she was first learning to speak and couldn't pronounce her elder sister's name in full. Euphy's adorably exaggerated reaction to it had made it stick.

But watching footage of his sister now, arrayed in a tight black corset and dress, he couldn't help but think that 'adorable' was now the wrong word for her.

They may have once shared a father, but as Lelouch no longer considered the Emperor his father he discounted that. He knew that Milly would take poor Euphy to bed in a heartbeat if given the chance. Cornelia too, come to think of it.

Perhaps something could be arranged. Euphy had always been a little too affectionate with him as a child. Looking back on it, it was clear that she'd had a massive crush on him and he'd never realized it. Cornelia was less certain. She'd been slightly too old for that to work when they were children, but now that they were older the age gap was less significant.

He snorted. Hormones really were something, weren't they? Here he was in the middle of a gambit for the fate of the world, and he was busy worrying how to secure the affections of his childhood friends.

That's not to say he wasn't still _going to_ , but it was amusing nonetheless.

There was a knocking on his door, and a second later Sancia stepped in. "Miss Shinozaki, Master."

She then stepped aside and permitted Sayoko entrance. His assassin looked tired, having gotten up earlier than he so that she could draw up plans to take the Avalon without a casualty on either side.

Sancia closed the door, leaving them alone in the room. Sayoko padded up to the front of his desk, and opened her mouth to give her report.

"Uh uh uh," he scolded, before crooking a finger.

The looked she gave him screamed exasperation. "You're insatiable," she accused in a complete deadpan.

He grinned at her sideways. "Would you still love me if I wasn't?"

Instead of answering the question, she slinked around the desk and planted herself sideways on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to support herself. "Is this satisfactory to your raging bestial lusts?"

"Quite satisfactory," he affirmed, relishing the feeling of her body against his. "I see no reason we can't mix business with pleasure."

"And what would Kallen say if she walked in on us like this?" she teased.

He lowered his lips to her neckline, and she shivered in his arms. "She'd probably ask if I had a bigger chair."

His questing hand trailed from her shoulder and down her side, tracing the curve of her hip before she finally shifted and shook her head. Recognizing the signal, he pulled back. "If we continue any further, Master, I'm never going to end up giving you my report."

"Cockteased by my own depraved sex slave. Truly, it is a dark day for evil overlords everywhere," he exclaimed, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically, before waving her on magnanimously. "Very well, deliver your report."

She giggled. "I don't think you truly qualify as an evil overlord until you've kidnapped at least one princess. Fortunately, you're ahead of the curve on that front. Given your assessment of Princess Cornelia's personality, I concurred that she would likely make an attempt in the next few days to draw you out by attacking one of the defenseless ghettos."

He nodded. That had been his conclusion as well. "This puts us on a rapid timetable, as the only day we can be assured that she _won't_ attack is today due to the Vicereine's funeral. Thus, we have to move quickly on this one."

Her fingers tapped a few keys on his workstation until the blueprints for the 'Avalon' were brought up. "I had a few of Ashford's men take a look at these schematics. Due to this being an experimental model, Lloyd Asplund's FLOAT unit in the ship burns Sakuradite at a tremendous rate. Since the Tokyo Settlement does not have a secure airfield large enough to land the Avalon, it has to stay in the air at all times and rely on refueling shuttles four times a day."

"And you'd like to appropriate one," he finished, following her line of thought.

"Exactly. We send a team of Shadows in with tranquilizers and KO-Gas. They hit the ventilation system and pump it full of the gas. The ship's crew go out, Ashford's crew take over the bridge and land it somewhere in the countryside we control. Afterwards, we roll some trucks in, secure the prisoners, and leave the Avalon there until after VJ-Day."

Lelouch furrowed his brow, looking for holes in the plan. "What about air radar? Won't the Occupation be able to track it?"

"No," said Sayoko, shaking her head. "That's part of the beauty of it. Ashford's engineers tell me that the whole ship utilizes some new radar-jamming technology. It was originally just to make the ship impossible to lock onto with missiles, but it also works with air radar."

"And Ashford's crew, are you sure they'll be able to pilot it with no training?"

"They seemed fairly certain. They said that the control scheme was adapted from a submarine's, so they apparently know enough to at least fly it somewhere and land it."

Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Lelouch eventually nodded his acceptance. "Put the Shadows together. I'd like this operation done by tonight, but I leave the timing to your discretion. Pull this off, Sayoko, and we'll succeed in VJ-Day without a hitch."

As the assassin left to carry out his orders, Lelouch lit a cigarette and went back to watching coverage of Carine's funeral.

It was time for a family reunion.

* * *

Reuben was in his element. At heart, he wasn't a revolutionary. He wasn't even a Duke or world-famous industrialist. Deep inside, he was an engineer first and foremost.

This 'Lancelot' machine really was quite spectacular. It was hampered by what seemed to be an insistence on elegance over military practicality, but the individual technologies involved were on par with and in some cases surpassing a few of the things he'd developed for Fulcrum's archives.

The FLOAT system, for example, worked along the same lines as an aerial propulsion unit he'd developed a year or two ago, but he'd never imagined being able to fit one on anything smaller than an aircraft carrier.

Or the Blaze Luminous shielding unit. If he could make a version that permitted objects to pass through in one direction but not the other...

VE-Day could happen inside a few years.

"How's that... Maser-Vibration Sword, wasn't it?" he asked Miss Chawla as she examined the enormous KMF blade on her workstation. The Indian scientist was truly brilliant, if reluctant to be using her once-rival's work. He'd only been able to talk her into it with the reasoning that they'd rightfully stolen the machine, and therefore it was only fair to nick any good ideas from it in the name of further showing up Lloyd Asplund.

Chawla lifted up her microscopic goggles. "Just as I thought, a rapidly-oscillating tungsten-alloy blade. Of course, the design's incredibly inefficient. Give me a few day of testing and I could make up a blade with twice the cutting power at probably a third the energy draw."

"I'll put it on the list," remarked Reuben, reaching out and absently adding another note to their whiteboard.

He continued tinkering with the VARIS rifle. "I know it's your machine and all, but what would you think about installing some variant of this weapon on the Guren? It's somewhat lacking in long-range armaments at the moment."

She seemed to consider it for a moment, before shaking her head. "Maybe in the next generation. At the moment, the Guren doesn't have the energy systems to support one. I'm ashamed to say that the Radiant Wave Surger consumes most of the frame's combat potential. Although... if I adapted the Lancelot's Core Luminous with some of those systems I saw in your archives, I could probably work quite a few new systems into the next generation of Guren."

"Well the Radiant Wave Surgers certainly proved their worth last night. To be honest I'd have never thought of firing them like artillery, but I have to admit that they made quite the spectacle."

"I suppose that's why we're engineers instead of generals," she chuckled.

"Well rest assured, Miss Chawla, that His Highness understands the value of engineers. We're going to spend the next handful of years with all the funding and resources we could want. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

A small grin appeared on the woman's face. "I concur, Duke Ashford."

* * *

Siren slowly navigated the covered army truck up to the checkpoint of Tokyo Airport's military sector. A guard with a Purist armband stuck his hand up, his rifle slung across his chest. She spared a glance to ensure that all of her fellow Shadows were wearing their earplugs before turning to face him.

"State your business and cargo, ma'am," directed the guard.

She willed her Geass into activation. It's sweet power laced her voice like honey. "Pʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ Aᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ. Esᴄᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄɪᴀʟs ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ Hᴇʀ Hɪɢʜɴᴇss' ᴀɪʀsʜɪᴘ ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ. Wʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ sʜᴜᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ sᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ?"

The soldier's eyes glazed over. "The officials..." he murmured to himself, "of course. How could I have forgotten? The next shuttle is sending a load of Sakuradite fuel up in ten minutes. It's in Hangar A-2. You best hurry."

After the bollards were lowered, Siren drove the truck onto the tarmac. The hangar in question was several rows down, and easily visible by the handful of guards surrounding it wearing uniforms bearing Cornelia's personal emblem. It seems that she had prepared for the possibility of Master Lelouch attempting to infiltrate her ship through the shuttles.

Unfortunately, she had _not_ prepared for the power of Geass.

Unlike the Purist guard at the gate, these soldiers went rigid and alert the second they spotted the nearing of her truck. They did all but aim their weapons at her as she rolled down the window and leaned out.

"This is a restricted area, Private," barked the squad's leader. Once more she activated her Geass.

"Bᴜᴛ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Pʀɪɴᴄᴇss Cᴏʀɴᴇʟɪᴀ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ sᴇɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛs ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀɴᴛs ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴜᴘᴘʟɪᴇs, ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ?"

Every man in the squad blanked for a second, before they slowly started nodding to themselves. "Right. The truck. Right this way ma'am, and everyone else on the truck."

She and the rest of the Shadows unloaded, followed shortly by Asplund's men with their equipment packed into duffels. They were escorted into the hangar, where several airport technicians were busily loading pallets of energy fillers into the rear of a VTOL shuttle. None of them even paid attention to the new arrivals as they filed into the passenger section.

They waited for several minutes before the shuttle took off. It was quite the smooth ride, actually. Then again, it was a shuttle for an airship designed and built by Britannia's Prime Minister.

Siren tapped her ear twice, and everyone removed their earbuds. Her Geass wouldn't be much good once they were aboard. Cornelia's soldiers were famously very 'shoot first, ask questions later' when it came to unidentified intruders. It was doubtful that she'd even get the chance to speak before they would attack, so it was best to give everyone full tactical awareness instead.

With a small thump, they landed inside the Avalon.

She peered outside the small window of the shuttle's passenger cabin. Several crewmen were unloading the pallets in the rear, but there were no visible guards. There were cameras, however.

"Prepare to go loud," she instructed her comrades, and in sync they produced tranquilizer pistols and stun batons from their uniforms. Unlike herself, these Shadows were a combat team, loaded with suitable cybernetic enhancements for operations like this.

Her gaze shifted to Ashford's men. "Keep your heads down and stay on my ass. If there's shooting, stay in cover until I tell you to move, understand?"

They all nodded, and she took a cleansing breath.

Brick opened the shuttle door, drawing the attention of the crewmen. They barely had time to look up in alarm before the man had put a dart in all three of their throats. Almost immediately, the alarm started blaring and the bulkhead door of the hangar locked shut.

Fortunately, they had the blueprints.

While she and the Shadows shot out the cameras, one of Ashford's crew produced a crowbar from his bag and pried open a wall panel the size of a minifridge. Inside were several exposed pipes that he knocked out of the way with a sledgehammer. Water poured out in a torrent, but it had opened a passageway into the lower deck of maintenance corridors.

Together, they slipped through the crack and into the bowels of the ship.

* * *

"What's going on?" demanded Cornelia as an alarm went off in the middle of her planning.

One of the bridge's security officers looked up in shock. "Intruders on board, Your Highness! They came in one the refueling shuttle and took out the hangar crew. They've shot out the cameras, but I've got them locked in there."

"Put Euphemia in her room and and have ten men inside with her," she immediately ordered Guilford. He snapped a salute and ran off to arrange the guard. "How many are there?"

"I saw four, Your Highness, but there seemed to be more inside the shuttle. I honestly can't say."

That didn't make sense. Someone was attempting to take the Avalon in with just a shuttle of men? It was blatantly suicide. She had a crew of twenty, with a thirty man guard—along with complete control of the ship and its systems.

"Get every available soldier together and prepare them to breach the hangar. I don't know what's going on here, but I intend to find out."

* * *

"How much further?"

The Ashford engineer inspected the plans on his tablet. "We're about fifty yards from the air filtration system, but there's a crew bunk between here and there. It'll probably be occupied."

"Crewmen or soldiers?" asked Brick, double-checking his ammunition.

"Doesn't specify, but I'd guess crew. Maintenance would be easier if you were quartered down here."

Siren peaked the corner, before throwing her hand up for them to halt. The door at the end of the corridor was open, and he could see several men in crewmen's jumpsuits sitting around a table, playing cards. Very alert in the face of an alarm, this lot.

She tapped Brick on the shoulder, and held up five fingers before jerking her thumb in their direction. He nodded, before peaking the corner himself and evaluating the targets.

In a flash he leapt from cover and his silenced dart pistol whispered five times. Five men collapsed to the floor. Synaptic boosters really were something.

Their group pressed forward, through the crew bunks, and into the corridor beyond. Fortunately, there were no cameras in this level of the ship—likely because the only way into it was, theoretically at least, through the controlled and secured access points one the upper deck. They eventually reached a small door neatly labeled 'Air Filtration System Access'.

Jackpot.

It required a keycard to open, but one of the Ashford engineers just gave the hinges a few whacks with his crowbar until it fell inwards to reveal a small room barely larger than a walk-in closet. The air roared with the sound of processing air, being carried through several large and sturdy metal pipes and into some manner of box, then out again.

The engineer with the gas double checked the schematics on his tablet, before flipping open a small hatch on one side of the pipes labeled 'ATH', which he hooked a hose from his duffel up to.

"Masks on, everybody," he instructed.

Once everyone had donned a gas mask, he reached over to the large, heavily-pressurized container in his bag and turned the nozzle. A low hissing filled the room as the contents of the container emptied.

"We'll need all four duffels worth of gas to get the whole ship, but they'll never know its coming. I've got the gas going in through the air testing hatch, so its not processed by the filter. It just gets pumped straight through to the vents."

"Very good," praised Siren, her voice muffled by the mask.

* * *

With five of her men on the ground and ten guarding Euphy, Cornelia had fifteen combat-ready personnel ready to breach the besieged hangar. Unfortunately, she couldn't go herself. There was a nonzero chance that this was part of a kidnapping attempt, and that there was a large force in the hangar waiting to subdue her men and abscond with her the moment she stepped inside.

Instead she was forced to satisfy herself with Claudio Darlton's helmet-camera footage. He and the others stacked up against the hangar door, flashbang grenades in hand. On cue they pulled the pins and her security officer remotely opened the bulkhead. Four flashbangs rolled into the hangar, surely stunning any intruders inside.

Her men breached, rifles raised to perforate any intruders they saw. Instead, they were greeted with a hangar devoid of everything but an empty shuttle, three unconscious crewmen, and a large hole in the wall.

* * *

"Hurry up," barked Brick as the Ashford crew connected the third canister. "By now, they must have breached the hangar."

"We're going as fast as we can," explained the engineer, "but these containers are _highly_ pressurized. If we open them up any more than they are now, they'll explode."

The Shadow glanced down at his watch. "Well how long before the gas starts to affect them?"

"I can't say. This is a big ship. The gas is going to need a few minutes to circulate through the whole system."

Brick cursed to himself. A few minutes was all a smart security team would need to trace their route through the lower deck, and he didn't fancy a firefight in these tight, metal corridors. It would be ricochet heaven, and he couldn't control a situation like that. "King, Smallfry, with me," he ordered, leading the two men out with him and back down the hallway to the crew quarters.

The security had just cleared the corner when he entered the room. One of them raised a rifle and fired a few shots that bounced through the walls. Brick dove beside the doorway and with a great heave slammed the metal door shut.

Unfortunately, this door had handles on both sides, and he was forced to press his weight against it as the security fought for entrance from the other side. "Help me, you fucking pansies!" he screamed at King and Smallfry. The two immediately added their bodies to the door, their boots sliding along the floor as they struggled to keep traction.

There was a massive push from the other side, and the door opened a crack. A rifle barrel poked through in search of a target, but Brick managed to snatch it and pull it through sans its owner. Fortunately, the enemy was confined to a narrow corridor and could only push one man, while he had three.

Finally, after what seemed like ages of reverse tug-of-war, the force pressing against the door gradually weakened until it wasn't there anymore. Cautiously, Brick peeked through the door and saw the entire team prone on the floor, blissfully asleep.

"About bloody time," he muttered.

* * *

Cornelia awoke in a state of confusion. She was on a comfortable bed in a well-appointed room, albeit one completely devoid of windows. The furniture wasn't particularly fancy but it obviously wasn't cheap either.

The last thing she remembered was... being on the bridge of the Avalon. She was watching through Claudio's helmet camera as he struggled to get through a door with the intruders on the other side, when suddenly he just went limp and collapsed to the floor. She'd turned to her security officer to ask what happened... and that was the last thing she remembered.

Sleeping gas, of course. Evidently, the intruders had been out to kidnap her, and had to use something that would neutralize her crew without killing her.

And if they got her... then they likely had Euphy as well.

The metal door rattled and she glanced around for anything to use as a weapon, but nothing sprang to mind. With a shuddering creak, the door opened and a giant of a man stepped in, donned in some manner of black uniform with a white mask.

And after him stepped in a second figure in a similar uniform and mask, albeit the latter was black. His build was thin, with traces of lean musculature visible through the skintight parts.

"Ahh, I see you're awake," he greeted in a cultured, urbane Britannian accent. It threw her for something of a start. "Please, have a seat."

Without waiting for her response, he sat himself at the small table along one wall, where a previously-unnoticed tea set was laid out for use. Hesitantly, she followed his directions. Her blood boiled at following the man's lead, but both she, and more importantly Euphy, were currently at this man's mercy.

"Quite the nice little dungeon you have here. Few I have seen are so tasteful," she remarked neutrally as she warily seated herself across from him.

He chuckled softly. "'Never build a dungeon you wouldn't be content with spending the night in yourself,' I always say. The world would be a better place if more people remembered that. One or two sugars?"

"Three," she answered, desperately trying to project a strong front. She noted that he prepared two cups, although he wouldn't be able to drink through his mask.

The mask gazed downward at the teacup, before he finally sighed. "I must confess Cornelia that I'd originally intended to spend a deal of time indulging my theatric side, but now that you're before me it seems cruel to leave you in such uncertainty."

His gloved hand reached up and pressed in the two sides of his mask. There was a muted click, before he lowered it to reveal... a Britannian face?

Her first thought was that he was admittedly very handsome, with an aristocratic face and refined features. Her brother Schneizel was the 'Prince Charming' type, but this man was more harsh and angular. His black hair and purple eyes only acc—

Purple eyes...

And suddenly she realized that she was looking at a dead man.

" _L-Lelouch,_ " she breathed, her voice failing her for the first time in years. She didn't dare to hope. She _couldn't_ hope. She couldn't bear the loss of having him resurrected, just to lose him again.

But his gloved hand reached up to wipe a tear from her eyes that she hadn't even felt. "Corny," he whispered back, smiling softly.

Suddenly, a near-decade of guilt and pain and loss was lifted from Cornelia's shoulders. Next she knew there was the sound of her chair scraping along the ground and she was on top of him, clutching his shoulders and sobbing into his shirt like a child. She hadn't failed Empress Marianne twice. She hadn't let the only other children she considered true family disappear into the cold emptiness of the world like a stain of breath upon a mirror.

She hadn't lost one of her dearest people in the world.

His firm hands began tracing slow circles along her back, and he murmured comfortingly in her ear. "Shh. It's alright. I'm alive. Nunnally's alive. Euphy's alright. Everything is fine."

"Euphy," she whispered desperately, finally drawing back from his shoulder. "Where is she?"

"In the next room, still asleep," he said soothingly. "I wanted to talk to you first."

"Where are we?"

He smiled softly again, before passing her a handkerchief that she gratefully accepted. "That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. Sit down, and I'll explain everything."

Her gaze shifted downwards, and she realized that she was essentially straddling his lap. Embarrassed, she delicately stood and righted her discarded chair. She didn't know what had possessed her to jump him like that. But it had felt good to sit in his arms and be treated like something other than a general or an overbearing older sister.

"Where are we?" she repeated.

"We call it the Bunker. It's a large underground complex underneath the Tokyo Settlement. We're right below the Ashford District."

"We?"

His fingers drummed the table and he took a sip of tea as he thought. "The best way to explain the rest of this Cornelia, would be to start at the beginning. The night Nunnally and I disappeared, nine years ago, it was because the loyal members of Mother's household discovered something that caused them to abscond with us and flee Britannia."

"And that discovery?"

A solemn, grim look overtook Lelouch's face. "That the Emperor had Mother assassinated to provoke a war with the EU."

The words hung in the air as Cornelia's blood went cold. There was a stab of pain, and she looked down to see that the teacup she'd been holding had shattered in her hands. Funny, that.

Then the actual meaning of the words finished processing and absolute red hot, _boiling_ fury welled up inside her. It was the validation of every sneaking suspicion and doubt she'd ever had about their father but pushed aside as paranoia. In a single sentence, her world was turned upside-down. To keep herself rooted at the table, she gripped the table until its wood creaked under her fingers. "And what happened next?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Mother had a great deal of contingencies prepared in the event of something happening to her. She had hard currency set aside, safehouses in forty different nations, and supporters that were completely loyal to her line. Count Soresi, Sir Gottwald, and Dr. Asplund, along with the remaining twenty members of the House Guard escaped in the night and flew us to one of Mother's safehouses in Japan, where we hid for three years."

So that was why they had all disappeared. She could guess the next part of the story. "And then Britannia invaded."

"And then Britannia invaded," he affirmed. "Due to... complicated circumstances, our safehouse was compromised and we had to flee to Tokyo. And thanks to another... complicated series of events, we uncovered this underground complex and liberated it from its previous owners."

"And the previous owners were?"

"I will explain that in a minute. But in this complex I found the secret to a great power, the power to change the world. To make it a better, more gentle place for people like Nunnally or Euphy. A place where they wouldn't have to live in fear. And so with the Mother's supporters, some friends I made along the way, and later Duke Ashford, I founded an organization to shift the world into a New Order. I named us Fulcrum."

This was... unbelievable, yet she could find no hint of falsehood in Lelouch's face or dictation. "And what have you done as 'Fulcrum'?"

He smiled the same way he did when they were children and he was about to play a prank on her. "My dear Cornelia, have you not already figured it out? You have been dealing with my handiwork since you first arrived in this Area."

The realization took a moment to process, before it hit her like a sack of bricks. "You're Zero, the leader of the Black Knights."

"A public face, for a public front," he said loftily. "To fulfill my aims, I needed men that I could not recruit through Fulcrum. I also needed a country that recognized me as their ruler. Japan served nicely for numerous reasons."

"What... precisely _are_ your aims?" she asked slowly.

"To unite the entire world under a single banner and initiate ten thousand years of peace as Emperor."

She blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"You're insane. That's... that's impossible. _Nobody_ could do that, no matter how powerful."

He smiled slowly. "That would be true, normally. But as I said, when I seized this complex I uncovered a great and secret power within, something that would make this ambition possible. It is called Geass, Cornelia, and it is the Power of the Kings."

Slowly, Lelouch's eyes began to glow, and a red, glowing crest resembling a bird in flight appeared in each pupil. She felt hypnotized, _spellbound_ , by the gaze. It was like locking eyes with a god.

Then he closed his eyes and when they opened again it was gone. "Geass is an ability that varies from wielder to wielder, and has the power to fulfill their deepest desire. I bear the Geass of Absolute Obedience. I can compel any who meet my gaze to obey a single, absolute command."

"That's..." she wanted to deny it, but she'd just _seen it_. She'd _felt_ _it_. Deep in her heart she knew his words to be true. "Any command?"

" _Any_ ," he repeated, dipping his head. "I can make a man take his own life with a single word. I can make someone forget their own identity. I can command someone to give me their complete and absolute loyalty."

"Who..." she started. "Who else has this power?"

He tilted his head sideways, thinking. "Officially, the only two natural ones that I know of are borne by myself and the Emperor. I'm told that he bears the Geass of Absolute Memory. He can rewrite or erase the memories of any that meet his gaze."

The thought filled Cornelia with dread. Lelouch she trusted, Lelouch she knew had a good heart. But Father... who had _killed_ Empress Marianne just to start his war. It made her sick to her stomach thinking about what he could do with such a power—what he in all likelihood _had_ done with such a power.

"You said 'natural' Geass bearers. What did you mean?"

"Typically, a Geass has to be bestowed by a Code Bearer, an immortal. They can only be killed by a Geass user, upon which their Code and immortality will pass to that individual. I know of only two Code Bearers. One is an ally, the other my prisoner. But the other discovery I made in this facility, which was made to study Geass, was a miraculous substance called Meld. It is created from the DNA of a Code Bearer, and carries their abilities. It can induce in an individual an _artificial Geass_."

"So you could create as many as you wanted," she concluded, her voice distant with the constant, world-upending revelations.

"Not just that. It also serves as a perfect catalyst to make legitimate cybernetic and biological enhancements a reality. Jeremiah, take off your mask."

The giant in the corner, who, even with his mask off was difficult to recognize as the Sir Gottwald who had once served under her in Empress Marianne's House Guard, looked down at her and she could see that his eyes were not flesh. They were cold metal, glowing with blue light.

"Jeremiah has made himself into a walking killing machine for the cause. His bones are laced with titanium. His skin is bulletproof. He can _shut off_ his sense of pain. He is the _perfect_ soldier."

Cornelia looked on as the knight straightened up with pride. The man had always been zealously loyal. She turned back as Lelouch leaned over the table, and she couldn't help but be taken aback by the weight of his stare.

"So you see, Cornelia, that my dream of creating a peaceful world for Nunnally and Euphemia is actually very possible. My only question is... will you join me?"

Once again, she could only blink in shock. "What?"

"Will you join me, Cornelia, in the creation of a New Order? I have need of loyal and competent allies, and there is nobody in Britannia I would trust by my side more than you. The Emperor has betrayed you and everything you hold dear. Join me, and avenge yourself upon him. Join me, and create a world where Euphy and Nunnally be happy and free without guards and protection. The world of their dreams."

Her mind was made up. It had been made up since he first opened his mouth, but she had to ask anyway. "And if I say no?"

"I can't risk accidentally harming you or Euphy on the battlefield, so I would keep you confined here or at my manor with Nunnally. Your every need would be catered to and no harm would befall you, of that you have my word as a vi Britannia."

She stood and grasped him by his shoulders, gazing into his deep purple eyes.

"Lelouch, I will follow you to hell if I must."

Then she kissed him. She did not know why but she kissed him. But she knew it was how a kiss was supposed to feel. Perhaps it was his words, perhaps it was because he treated her as something _precious_ , but she just wanted him to _feel_ what he had done for her. How he had changed her life with but a single conversation. How he had removed nearly a decade of weariness and dread and pain from her, and given her a hope for the future where there had been none.

And then he kissed back, and all was right with the world.

* * *

Unlike when he did this with Kallen, Lelouch did not go all the way with Cornelia. Although, she did in a way remind him of Kallen, all passion and inexperience. The difference was hard to describe. The best way he could put it was that Cornelia's style was more... innocent, pure even. Less sexual and more romantic. After several minutes of back and forth, he finally established himself as the dominant force in the exchange.

He recalled reading once that everything in life was about sex, except sex—and that sex was about _power_ and _control_. It was an idea that Lelouch wholeheartedly believed.

What Cornelia desired was to be treated like a woman. That was the key to her affections. To be _loved_. And he loved her.

Her scrabbling hands fumbled for his zipper as he dipped her over the table, but he gently pushed them away. "Later," he promised. "There's still more that we need to discuss."

Red-faced and bearing a look that told him she was _thoroughly_ unfulfilled, she pulled back. "That being?"

"Euphy."

That finally doused her hormones. "Right," she reminded herself, straightening up and fixing her clothes and hair. "Euphy. What should we do about her?"

"That's your prerogative. You're her older sister. If you wish to take her out of this life, you can just leave her with Nunnally. I'll ensure that she's taken care of and protected. Or you can fill her in, although I'm unsure as to how understanding she would be of our goals and means."

The princess' face turned contemplative. Eventually, she shook her head. "Euphy's sweet and kind, but the years have made her accept some harsh realities. She accepted my doing terrible things in the name of protecting her. She'll accept my working with you in the name of world peace."

"Let's go talk with her, then."

* * *

The talk had been much shorter and easier with Euphy. She was far more trusting than Cornelia. He'd gotten about a quarter of the way through his spiel when she cut him off and asked if she could join him.

Then she'd kissed him, and things had gotten awkward.

He'd seen sisterly rivalry before, but never over these specific circumstances. He eventually managed to break them up, but in the course of doing so he'd accidentally let slip that the two of them were not exactly alone in his affections. Then they had both united and turned on _him_ for being such a playboy and womanizer. He'd been forced to call on all of his experience pacifying a jealous Sayoko or Mao, and it was still a near thing. The phrase 'raging bestial lusts' had even entered the conversation of its own accord.

But he'd pulled through, and his consorts expanded by two. He offered a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god or devil had granted him such unearthly charisma. But then again, he was out to quite possibly achieve world piece. Maybe it was just preemptive karma.

Regardless, with a sister on each arm he'd had Jeremiah drive them back to his manor to give Nunnally the surprise good news. The look on her face when she touched their hands and puzzled out their identities was something he wanted to capture and store forever. He wanted that look to last.

After a few hours of fond reminiscing, Nunnally's eyes had drooped and the maids took her off to her now soundproofed bedroom. Euphy and Cornelia had locked gazes and simultaneously dragged him upstairs with all the tact of Milly on a bender.

Truly, the power of sisters acting for a unified purpose was a terrifying one indeed. He'd entertained three women in a single night before, but these two ran him ragged. There was no lust like _repressed_ lust. When poor, sweet, and innocent little Euphy started dirty talking like a hardened sailor and spanking Cornelia mid-coitus, Lelouch acknowledged that he may have bitten off a tad more than he could chew.

Maybe if he got them together with Milly, they would cancel each other out. That, or the universe would explode.

After a few moments, he decided that it was worth the risk.

* * *

As Lelouch smoked a cigarette in the afterglow, Euphy snoring into one of his arms, he turned is head to Cornelia.

"So, what do you want to do about your men? I went through great pains with today's operation to ensure that none of them got hurt. I've got them all locked up in Fulcrum's holding cells."

Cuddling into his side, she thought about it. "While I believe most of them would follow me if they knew all of the facts, that is neither practical nor advisable. Not to mention, they have families back in Britannia that would suffer if they defected. It would be best if I just took my command staff. Guilford, my knight, General Darlton, my most trusted adviser, and his five adopted sons the Glaston Knights. They are all loyal to me, and would leave no families behind if they defected."

"With your permission, I would alter the memories of the men you leave behind so that they recall you, Euphy, Guilford, and the Glaston Knights being killed by Chinese assassins, and your bodies stolen. It would throw a major wrench in the Britannia/Chinese negotiations and ensure that all of you are conclusively listed as dead by all interested parties."

"That's acceptable. Just... try not to toy with their memories too much, alright? The idea still makes me a little uncomfortable."

He nodded, tracing a finger along her jawline. "Of course, my dear princess."

Her face illuminated in a pleasing blush, and she darted forward to peck him on the lips. "Goodnight, my darling prince."

He basked the feeling of their warm bodies pressed against him as they slept. Now that Cornelia, Euphy, and the Avalon were all off the board, the path to VJ-Day and the rise of Neo-Japan was clear. Three days, and the first act of his world conquest would be complete.

And there wasn't a remaining obstacle in sight.


	16. Chapter 16: VJ-Day

**And welcome back, readers! Hpyloen here with the arc finale of Darwin! An extra special long chapter for you lot today, with lots of name kicking and ass taking. I'm going to address a lot of the reviews here from last chapter talking about how the relationship between Lelouch, Cornelia, and Euphemia seemed somewhat contrived and rushed. I completely agree. Unfortunately, I wrote myself into something of a corner there. I decided too late to introduce them to the harem, and I realized that if they were to do so it would have to happen before the end of this arc. I'll try to backtrack a bit and have the relationship advance more next act, but just let it be known that I'm aware of the problem, I just didn't have a better way to go about it.**

 **Now, for reviews!**

 **MOR the Divine Being: It's described a few times in the earlier chapters. Black, utilitarian pants, black jacket, hood, and custom white mask.**

 **Sinnerlust: Because Emperor Charles regularly interacts with the Britannian royals and has a power that allows him to view and manipulate memories. Since Lelouch is unsure how much he does it, he's unwilling to reveal himself to Cornelia and then send her back to potentially get mind-read and discovered by Charles.**

 **Zero H Gundam: Probably not, as besides Code Geass I'm not really into mecha. Tetsuo is a pure OC. And no.**

 **stardrago: Chiba no for reasons that will soon become obvious, Xianglin no because she's too minor a character and would have no logical inclusion.**

 **Nine Lives Bladeworks: He's been interacting with her off-screen. I just haven't brought her up because she's not too relevant to the plot right now.**

 **The Coke-aholic: As you'll see, Lelouch does not want a dynasty. He just wants an empire.**

 **And on with the show!**

Chapter 16: VJ-Day

* * *

 _[Three Days Later]_

 _[D-Day+35]_

 _[VJ-Day]_

* * *

Bartley Asprius dabbed his forehead for what must have been the fiftieth time since stepping into the Citadel's command center. It was... It was pandemonium, havoc, a maelstrom of disparate reports and conflicting orders.

Vicereine Carine was dead, at her own hand no less. The day of her funeral, her replacement Vicereine Cornelia flies off in her airship and disappears. The ghettos were unsecured, the Purist bases in ruins, their Knightmares stolen, the Mt. Fuji mines sabotaged, and now Countess-General Nu was the highest ranking official still in the Area—yet she was nowhere to be found all morning.

And to top it all off, word had arrived from His Majesty informing them that with Princess Cornelia's disappearance, he was holding off the reinforcements from the Pacific Fleet. If they could beat back the EU naval forces with the fleet from the MvB Base, he would send them along to reestablish order, but if they could not, he wasn't going to waste valuable Knightmares, soldiers, and ships on a lost Area.

He examined the strategic overlay map, trying to work out the best defensive plan to fight off the imminent naval assault without compromising the security of the Tokyo Settlement or the MvB Base.

Their best bet was to keep the majority of the fleet docked in the base to defend it, with a handful of light scout craft patrolling the waters and keeping an eye out for the EU. The second they did so, the rest of the fleet would deploy and repel the inevitably-smaller fleet.

That way, the base would be defended right up until the threat arrived, at which point even if the base was later attacked it wouldn't matter as reinforcements from the Pacific Fleet would be sent in to straighten things out.

So of the hundred Sutherlands stationed at the base, seventy-five were returning to defend the Settlement.

It was a terribly insufficient number compared to the forces Zero had displayed at Mt. Fuji, but hopefully with the static defenses they would at least be able to hold them off until reinforcements arrived from the Mainland.

Although, with what was discovered to have happened to the static defenses during the Mt. Fuji assault, he'd implemented martial law in the Settlement and declared that no officer in the Citadel's security center was to be left alone without at least two subordinates on hand or one officer of equal rank. They weren't going to have their own defenses hijacked by a strategic hostage demand.

Finally, Nu arrived.

"I'm here!" she barked in announcement, although her visage was haggard. Every officer stood from their station to salute her, relief filling their faces.

He hurried over to her side, dabbing his forehead all the while. " _Where have you been?_ " he hissed in demand. " _It has been bloody_ bedlam _in here_."

" _In a meeting with Ashford,_ " she whispered back harshly, " _trying to see if I could secure any additional frames, but with the Sakuradite shortage his entire production line has been put on halt. What steps have you taken?_ "

" _Sent scout ships out to wait for the Europeans, with orders to deploy the whole fleet the second they're spotted. I've also relocated three-quarters of our KMFs to here, as we're virtually sitting ducks right now_."

She marched up to the map herself and began scrolling through the readouts, examining for herself. "We still don't have an ETA on the EU forces. The Settlement can be recovered, but the base cannot if it falls before the European navy is defeated. Change the order to half our Knightmares."

"But, my lady, if the Citadel falls..."

Her glare pinned him in place. "If the Citadel falls, we can evacuate through the escape tunnels and into the Ashford Underground. There's a passage leading to a private airfield just outside the city with a VTOL large enough to get every high-ranking official in the Citadel to Area 9. The late Vicereine Carine convinced Duke Ashford to secretly build both during his original construction. None but she, he, and I knew about them."

"Shall I inform the men?" he asked hesitantly. "They've been very worried for their lives with this whole situation, and I feel that it would be best to inform them that there is a backup plan."

"No, you damned fool. Men will fight thrice as hard if they believe their backs to a wall. This stays between us until necessary, understand?"

He gulped, but nodded. "Yes, my lady."

* * *

Suzaku carefully lined up the handgun's sights on the crude target nailed to the tree. As taught, he visualized the target, the path of the bullet, and the movement of his finger. The bullet had already hit the target, it was just a matter of proving it to the rest of the universe.

He fired one shot. Close. Two shots. Closer. Three shots.

With a stabbing pain, his hand cramped up and he cursed. The shot went wide, racing off into the forest somewhere.

The masked face of Zero appeared on the target in his mind's eye, and he emptied the magazine into it. His accuracy greatly suffered, but it still felt immensely therapeutic. Todoh-sensei would have scolded him for such a waste of ammo, but he was alone in the section of the wilderness outside the Tokyo Settlement.

Lowering the weapon to his side, he lifted his cane and limped back to camp. He'd been able to walk without it this last week, but it was slow and painful so he kept using it.

They'd relocated to outside the Tokyo Settlement just two days ago. Both he and Todoh sought vengeance upon Zero, but the only time the bastard showed his face was when he was commencing some showy operation to please the crowds. And three days ago, a scout they'd sent undercover into Sendai had reported the erection of massive video screens throughout the ghetto, indicating that Zero was about to showcase something big.

Given that the MvB Naval Base was an impenetrable fortress of a dozen aircraft carriers with their entire supporting fleets, in addition to the whole of the Occupation's Knightmare force, it was far likelier that he was hitting the softer but more symbolic Tokyo Settlement.

Admittedly that hadn't stopped him from sabotaging Mt. Fuji, but this time he wouldn't have a sacred mountain to desecrate on top of them.

So he and the rest of the JLF loyalists were encamped in the forest outside the Tokyo Settlement, waiting for Zero to arrive so that they could make their move against him. While they didn't have a good estimate of Zero's forces, they knew that he'd at maximum possessed two hundred Sutherlands and the Guren. After attacking a stronghold like Mt. Fuji with untrained forces, they could only imagine that he had a skeleton of that by now. Against their fifty trained KMF pilots, they would be _nothing_.

So when Zero made his move, the True Japanese Liberation Front would be there to greet him.

* * *

Today was the day.

Today, Tetsuo liberated his people and saw the birth of a new empire, under Master Zero. For the last three days he and his fellow Black Knights had been drilled by their commanders on the plan. He knew every street, fortification, and strategic target for the assault. He knew every squad's job, along with his own. Every man had been rapt with attention, each unwilling to be the one that made the fatal mistake.

Dressed in his field kit, he stood with Ken at the foot of their Tandem in the staging area. In something of an inverse of the Mt. Fuji assault, they were set in the tall hills around five miles from Tokyo—the rolling landscape providing excellent visual cover from the prying eyes of Britannian scouts.

In the distant Settlement, beyond the perimeter wall dotted with anti-armor cannons and the inner walls dividing the districts and littered with pillboxes, was the key to the whole thing: the Vicereine's Citadel—a monolithic eyesore that towered over even the skyscrapers, the titanic banner of Britannia hanging from its front a testament to the current owners.

It was the goal of he and every other man here to see Master Zero's banner there by the end of the day.

Surveying his surroundings, he could only think that Master Zero had really pulled out all the stops for today's operation. In addition to their regular forces, he had dozens upon dozens of the 'fire and forget' artillery pieces he'd used for Mt. Fuji and the docks stationed around the area, all of their targets pre-sighted and just awaiting a firing command.

And finally, the man himself rolled in with his retinue. He was attired once more in his general's uniform, complete with sword and revolver. Commander Kozuki as usual stood at his shoulder, seemingly his perfect counterpart.

In a slow procession like a funeral march, they stepped up onto the small makeshift platform erected before them. From his position, the Citadel loomed over his shoulder. He raised a hand and instantly had the attention of every soldier.

"We have fought this war before. Six years ago, we fought it from Tokyo to Kyoto. Sixty years before that it was fought against the Chinese, and again and again all the way back to the days of the samurai. A thousand battles spanning a thousand years."

The revolutionary's presence filled the air like a haze, and even where he stood he could feel it whispering dark promises to him.

"Black Knights. Look atop those walls and know you face three centuries of blood and arrogance staring down at you. You know that banner. The whole world has fought against it. Under that standard the Japanese have bled a hundred times. Under that standard, Toyko was torn apart at the whims of the mad and the vicious. Are you not tired? I am."

He laughed, a thing of dark and bitter anger.

"I have prepared for this war since I was a boy. And so have you, in every ghetto and home and ruin there is to be found in this nation. There is no peace with this foe, only struggle from dawn to dusk."

His voice rose.

"Black Knights. You of Matsumoto and Kyoto, of Shinjuku and Sendai, you have fought this war before and lost. Six years ago, our bones were shattered by the Britannian Knightmares. Yet even with broken backs we persevered, and here we stand once more today, fangs bared and odds greatly shifted. Will you let this opportunity be wasted?"

It was the youngest soldiers that began. Feet stamped the ground, fists beat chests in perfect unison. It came and went like a summer storm, deafening in sudden fury and sudden absence.

"I will not tell you our cause is just, for justice does not win wars," he said. "I will not tell you victory is deserved or assured, for the world owes nothing. If the world refuses you your due, then declare war upon all the world."

His sword cleared the sheathe, the sound of sharpness and steel a call to war.

"On this field, on this day, two truths rule..."

"There is only one sin."

"DEFEAT," two thousand voices screamed back.

"There is only one grace."

"VICTORY."

Rifles rose, Knightmares roared to life, artillery fired off and with that last word filling the air the Second Battle of Tokyo began.

* * *

"Enemy artillery inbound!"

"Hostile KMFs spotted to the West!"

"The perimeter wall has been breached!"

Bartley turned from the chaos to see Nu fiddling with the control panel for the command center's door. "My lady, what are you doing?"

"Locking us in," she replied tersely. "I don't want Zero sending any saboteurs or assassins in here like he did with Mt. Fuji. If this room is lost, so is the entire Tokyo Settlement and I won't have that happen under my watch."

Apologetically, he nodded. "Right, a wise course of action, my lady."

With a heavy thump the heavy steel door slid shut, the only non-officers inside being a pair of guards with rifles.

His gaze shifted back to the wide windows providing a panoramic view of the Settlement. True to the reports, the Western Perimeter Wall had a number of smoking craters dotting it, and hordes of Knightmares were pouring down from the hillside like an avalanche—raining heavy suppressing fire on the soldiers trying to man the defensive cannons.

"Tell the security center to deploy the Citadel's weapons and provide fire support to the West District," he instructed an officer, who quickly picked up his station's phone and relayed the order.

The entire command center went quiet at the bark of two revolver shots. Slowly, Bartley turned. Countess-General Nu stood hunched over the bodies of the two guards, her smoking revolver clutched in one hand.

Then, like some sort of twisted puppet, she rose and spun on one heel to face them, an assault rifle in her grip.

A manic grin stretched across her face, and she open fired.

* * *

As massive cannon barrels emerged from the towering Citadel's walls and began firing on his forces, Lelouch frowned. It seemed that the good Countess Nu had not carried out her orders in time to prevent the defenses from activating. His first Geass command had not borne all the fruit it could.

Fortunately he had some Shadows sent in for that exact purpose, but it would still mean the loss of at least a couple dozen Black Knights.

He watched through enhanced feeds as his Sutherlands scaled the perimeter wall with their Slash-Harkens and began the bloody task of eliminating the gun crews to clear the way for the Tandems and Pumas.

All of the French squad leaders had been given strict instructions on what they and their men were and were not permitted to do while attacking the city. Non-resisting civilians were out of bounds, as were children in general. Property damage was to be limited as much as possible in the simple name of economics. Every structure they captured intact was one they didn't have to rebuild after the nation was liberated.

Kallen and the Irregulars were tasked with capturing Ashford Academy for use as his field HQ. Milly, Nunnally, and Euphy had already been moved underground for their protection.

Cornelia meanwhile had requested a Sutherland and a good view to watch the siege from.

" _Most impressive, little brother,_ " she commented over the comms, a hint of pride in her voice, " _although I must confess that being on this side feels strange. Your attack is solid and effective, although I would have the long range autocannons on those 'Tandems' of yours to soften up the wall's defenders before sending the Sutherlands in for_ _close-quarters._ "

He smiled at her mothering. " _I'll make a note of it. You're free to take the field yourself if the urge strikes you. You're registered as a friendly on our IFFs._ "

" _I'm content to watch from_ here," she chuckled. " _This is your day, not mine_."

* * *

Suzaku stated in wide-eyed shock at the force assaulting the Tokyo Settlement. There had to be at least three hundred of them! How in hell had Zero amassed so many Knightmare pilots? It was clear that they weren't untrained either. They moved with precision and cooperation, covering one another and making efficient use of their machines.

" _What should we do?_ " he asked Todoh. He and the other fifty True JLF pilots had mounted up the moment the artillery had fired off, but at the moment an attack would see them slaughtered.

There was a moment of silence over the radio as the samurai contemplated this. " _If we wait until Zero and his men have secured most of the city, we can flank their weakened forces and rout them._ "

" _So we hold?_ "

" _We hold._ "

* * *

"Shit," swore Colonel Spring under his breath as another artillery shell rocked his garrison post. He stumbled like a drunkard into the radio room, where his communications officer was once more rapidly dialing a phone.

"Anything?" he asked.

The man shook his head, and Spring cursed vehemently to himself at his horrid fortune. "I've tried almost a dozen times sir, but there's no word from anyone in the Citadel. Either they've somehow been compromised or the enemy's managed to cut off our comms to them. Either way, we're not getting orders from anyone higher up the chain than you."

"Damn it. Send a runner to the Citadel and find out what the hell's going on. Are the rest of our radios working?"

"Aye, sir."

"What's the current status of the front line?"

"Bad, sir. The outer Western Wall has all but fallen. The men are performing a staggering retreat into the inter-district walls. Enemy IFVs have just begun deploying infantry inside the West District."

Spring scratched his mustache, trying to think of an appropriate stratagem. "Get anything anti-armor we have to the inner walls. The I-D walls have no chance against Knightmares, and if they breach the inner wall they've only got the Administrative District between them and the Citadel."

"Sir," acknowledged the officer before pulling up a map of their anti-armor deployments and relaying the order.

* * *

Interesting. Despite crippling their chain of command, someone had clearly taken charge of the defending forces. Their disorganized retreat had finally stabilized and he could spot tanks being emplaced with sandbags along the Inner Wall.

You see, Tokyo's organizational structure resembled the spokes of a wheel.

At the very center of the city was the Vicereine's towering Citadel. Around it was the Administrative District where the various government and military organizations kept their offices and bases. The Inner Wall encircled the Admin District and four districts surrounded it, separated by the I-D walls. The West District was primarily commercial, the North was where the wealthy and noble lived, the East where the commoners lived, and the Southern Ashford industrial district, which also contained the docks.

Lelouch's goal had been to punch through the West District and into the Admin District, secure both, and from there expand through the other three one at a time. Although, the Ashford District was virtually taken already thanks to the standing down of the Ashford PMC.

But it seemed that the enemy commander wasn't going to make that easy for him.

He activated his universal comm. " _All forces, be advised: enemy are concentrating their anti-armor weapons along the Inner Wall. Advance with caution._ "

A concert of acknowledgements streamed through his radio, and he switched to the private channel. " _Jeremiah, have the reserve artillery target the anti-armor emplacements. If you can't get coordinates, retask a squad to paint them for you._ "

" _Yes, Your Highness._ "

* * *

Brick activated his cybereyes' thermal vision, peering through the wall and searching for guards. "Clear," he reported to the rest of his team, producing a muted circular saw and setting it to work grinding open the thick electronic lock. He was almost certainly triggering dozens of alarms right now, but for once in his career he was allowed to be _loud,_ and he was going to take full advantage of it.

He sawed through the last bolt and kicked the hidden door in. They emerged into a hallway of the Vicereine's Citadel, on one of the upper floors. "Nu's directions put the defense center this way," he informed his team.

Going in through an escape tunnel seemed almost like cheating, but then again he supposed that Master Lelouch _had_ been planning for this since the very construction of the Citadel—so maybe it was fair.

They made it through two more corridors before encountering resistance. A number of guards had set up a crude machine gun nest at the end of the hallway from a few oak desks and an LMG. It fired off the moment he stuck his head around the corner, nearly putting his Orthoskin into use for the first time.

"Thermals," he instructed the rest of his team as they all activated the setting of their cybereyes. "Smoke."

Six cannisters rolled into the hallway at different distances and exploded into a blinding cloud of gas. The machine gun fired off several bursts of suppressing fire, but it was clear that the gunner was blind. Brick dropped to his stomach and rolled out into the corridor, sighting the glowing heat signatures with his rifle. One by one he dropped then, starting with the gun's operator.

"Clear."

* * *

"Any updates from the Settlement?"

"No, Admiral. All I received was the original distress call, then all communications went dark. I haven't been able to contact anyone from the command staff, even by private lines."

Admiral Welks furrowed his brow. "What's the status of the Knightmares they requested?"

"Still about three hours out, Admiral, but I've told them to make double-time."

"Good, good. Inform me the minute anyone from command sends word out. In the mean time, see if you can contact anyone lower down the chain."

"As you say, Admiral."

This was a very bad situation. Tokyo could be facing anything from a communications blackout to a full-scale invasion, and he was completely in the dark. His first instinct was to take a few carriers and escort ships down there to provide fire support and aerial reinforcements, but he was still expecting the European Navy any day now and this could very well be a diversion orchestrated to draw his ships out.

He had a large number of scout craft patrolling a perimeter around Britannian waters and thus far they'd been completely quiet—but with three decades of naval experience that merely worried him. He'd been one the winning side of a great many complex stratagems, and he knew how they felt. This was one of them, but he couldn't work it out.

"Put the base on full alert. Get every gun and man prepared for an imminent assault. Be ready for anything."

* * *

As the base alarm went off and the soldiers began securing the base, Venom resisted the urge to curse under her breath.

She'd been _so_ close. She'd sweet-talked her way past the checkpoint. Her truck was right in place at the edge of the docks where the Pacific Fleet was harbored. The weapon was primed. All she had to do was arm it and walk away.

But now that the alarm was sounded, her walking away from an unmanned truck right next to the dock would trip all sorts of bells. It was counter-terrorism 101.

A sigh escaped her lips. She knew what had to be done. Such was a Shadow's duty, for the cause of Master Lelouch, Fulcrum, and the New Order. For them, she would give anything. When everything had been taken from her and she'd tottered on the brink of oblivion, they had been there. They had taken her in and given her a new name, a new life, a new purpose—something to believe in and fight for.

And at the end of the day, something to die for.

She was proud that her hand did not tremble as she fingered the detonator. Her other hand sent out a final text informing her superiors of her fate. They would remember her, and that was enough. A small smile made its way across her face.

" _Ave, vivat Imperator_ ," she whispered softly, before pressing the trigger.

* * *

Admiral Welks was thrown to the floor as an explosion hammered the entire base. The bulbs in the ceiling exploded in a shower of sparks, and the room was ensconced in darkness for several moments before the emergency chemlights finally activated—illuminating the room in a dull red glow.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded harshly, but nobody had any response to offer.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and noticed with great worry that the base radios, which had previously been broadcasting security updates from the guards, had all gone completely silent. Not even static.

Between that and the lights... The realization finally hit him. "They knocked out the base's power. We're about to be attacked!"

He rushed outside to inform the men, when he saw a squad of stationary Sutherlands. He waved frantically to get their attention, knowing that the attackers would show themselves any second and the soldiers had to be warned. There was no reply from the Knightmares, they didn't even move. Eventually after half a minute of shouting and waving, one of the cockpits slid out and a knight glanced down at him in surprise.

"Admiral," asked the soldier, "what's going on?"

"We're about to be attacked!" screamed Welks, his face red. "Spread the word over your radio!"

"Radio's dead, Admiral, so's every other electrical system in here. I've got no power. And from the looks of it, neither have this lot."

No power? "When did you last replace your Energy Filler?"

"Less than an hour ago, Admiral. I should still have almost a full charge, but I'm completely dead. Manual ejection lever barely even worked."

Welks gazed past the Sutherland to the docks, an unrealized sensation of complete and utter horror welling up inside him. Its full meaning finally struck him as he spotted crewmen exiting onto the decks of their ships and hollering questions across at one another.

Somehow... the enemy had killed power to the entire fleet. They wouldn't be able to leave the harbor. They wouldn't even be able to aim the guns.

They were completely dead in the water.

* * *

"Target at ten, sixty meters," called out Ken, and Tetsuo shifted his aim to eliminate the mortar crew that the Sutherlands had missed during their sweep. His autocannon almost felt like overkill on soft targets, but it was still immensely satisfying to reduce Britannian soldiers to a red mist

"Holding, Puma deploying," Ken announced as he brought their Tandem to a halt so that one of the Pumas they were escorting could deploy its infantry to search the street. He scanned the street with his cameras, looking out for snipers or MG nests that had hidden during the Sutherlands' pass so that they could get a shot at the more vulnerable foot soldiers.

He'd been twelve the last time he'd set foot in a place like this. Despite the siege and streets devoid of pedestrians, the West District of the Tokyo Settlement was still a beautiful commercial sector. Tall skyscrapers stretched into the sky and glowing advertisements promised all sorts of tantalizing goods.

One of the first things he decided to do after the war was bring his mother here and buy her something beautiful. She deserved it with all the shit he put her through as a kid.

They were still about three streets away from the Inner Wall, and despite the artillery barrage he could see the Sutherlands battling it out with the emplaced defenses.

Although, word had just reached them that Commander Kozuki and her small detachment had penetrated the I-D Wall into the Ashford District and captured a field HQ for Master Zero. Now that it was secured, she would be redeployed to support them. That Inner Wall would probably crumble in a matter of minutes.

And he'd thought that some of the original Resistance Fighters had been scary in a Knightmare. Then he'd seen Commander Kozuki in her custom 'Guren' frame, boiling Britannians alive with her claw. If she didn't terrify him to his very core, he'd be head-over-heels in love with her. And from what he'd heard around the base the last few days, that hadn't stopped some of his comrades.

Master Zero's placement of her as his right hand was well-founded, it seemed.

The Citadel's cannons fired again, and he watched one of the massive shells obliterate two of the Sutherlands attacking the Inner Wall. He was glad that they were focused on the wall rather than him and the infantry, but it pained him every time he saw his comrades wiped from the earth like that.

Master Zero had informed them that he had a plan to silence the guns, but he just hoped that it would happen soon.

* * *

Brick tossed another smoke grenade down the hall, taking advantage of the enemy's brief blindness to sneak a few shots in. Unfortunately, someone in the security center had apparently gotten wind of this technique and initiated the Citadel's chemical attack protocols. The powerful ventilation system was now working full blast to clean and scrub the air, dispersing any smoke screen in seconds.

Without the cover they'd been relying on, his team's advance had been greatly slowed as they were constantly pinned by makeshift enemy barricades. Squire was bleeding from a ricochet, and Copperhead was still half-deaf from a flashbang that had gone off a foot from her head.

A grenade rolled to a stop by his feet, but he barely managed to scoop it up and bounce it back at the barricade. There was a frenzied scurrying before it went off and wiped out the defenders.

"Advance," he instructed, including a gesture for Copperhead's benefit. They slowly rounded the corner, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he finally spotted to door for the security center. It was thick, reinforced metal, but they'd come expecting that. He shot out the security camera, before nodding to one of his comrades.

"Fuze, you're up."

The demolitionist examined the door briefly before reaching into his pack and removing a large pad decorated with a frankly worrying number of safety warnings. It was the size of a normal doorway, and he stuck it to the bulkhead before outlining it in a thick red cord. Once the cord was fastened, he placed a pair of metal rods into it, then motioned for them all to back up a safe distance.

"Cover your ears and activate your flare-compensators. This is going to be bright and loud."

He pressed his detonator, and Brick watched in fascination at the Thermite-12 burned right through the reinforced steel like cardboard, then the door charge activated and blew their new entrance inwards.

Squire ran up with a flashbang and caught two rounds in the chest for his trouble. He flew backwards, landing in a heap on the floor. Brick grabbed his drag handle and yanked him out of the firing line.

"Fuck, am I bleeding?" Squire wheezed as Brick ripped open his uniform to inspect the damage—breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of two rounds caught in his armor plate.

"Unfortunately, your ass is going to be a pain in mine for a lot longer. Get up, and don't pull that cowboy shit again, understand?"

The young Shadow nodded contritely, wrenching himself to his feet. Brick turned to the rest of his team and gave them the hand signal for gas masks. They would be expecting flashbangs, so he and the others would not be using flashbangs.

Once everyone was protected, he produced a pair of teargas grenades and chucked both through the doorway. The sound of choking almost immediately filled the room.

"Breach!" he shouted and they advanced into the room, shooting at anything that moved.

It was good that he'd insisted on teargas. They had a pair of emplaced LMGs covering the doorway, and every man in the room had cotton balls from the first aid station stuffed in their ears. Had they managed to cover their eyes, he and his team would have been fair game. Fortunately, the defenders were now dead.

"Check the bodies and silence those guns with General Nu's codes," he barked, and his subordinates moved to fulfill his orders.

* * *

Lelouch smiled as the guns of the Citadel stopped firing, and moments later he got the report from the Shadows that they'd seized control of the security center. He gave them full go-ahead to turn the guns of the defenders. Turnabout was only fair play, after all.

From his new headquarters in the Ashford Academy gymnasium, he examined their situation. His soldiers had essentially secured the West District, and Reuben had ensured the Ashford District was all but secured to begin with. With the Citadel's guns under his control, his forces would finally be able to push through into the Admin District. Working backwards from there, it would be easy to capture the North and East Districts.

Of course, it was the North District that was the most essential target now. A great deal of his future options would hinge on how many well-connected nobles he could capture before they went underground.

One of the many disadvantages to Britannia's Peerage system was that in the event of an occupied Area falling, the enemy possessed a large number of _very_ valuable hostages for ransom. While the royal family had a strict policy against such things, most Britannian noble families did not—and they would bankroll the next stage of his plans.

All that remained for the battle was securing the districts and taking out the reinforcements from the MvB base. He was pleased to hear that Rakshata's Gefujin-Pulse bomb had worked as intended, but it pained him inside to know that Venom had been forced to sacrifice herself in order to detonate it. She'd been one of the first Shadows.

Another name for the plaque.

He turned to address Jeremiah. Cornelia, lacking a proper disguise, had remained in her Sutherland. "Once the scouts along the highway spot the reinforcements, move squads F through L to the Western Wall to engage them."

"As you command, Master Zero," acknowledged Jeremiah, under the prying eyes of a few Black Knight squads.

With the Martial Law the Settlement had been under the last day, there had been no classes at Ashford. Thus, all students had been in their dormitories when his forces had arrived to confine them. With around thirty guards, a handful of Tandems, and the Irregulars, he had his HQ secured from both hostiles and daring students.

Tokyo would be his by sunset.

* * *

Colonel Spring didn't know what to do. His situation had been desperate enough, and then the Citadel's cannons had started firing on his own position, obliterating his headquarters. He couldn't relocate either, as the Citadel had clean firing lines on everywhere but the Admin Metro System he was now stationed in.

He could see now why the enemy had chosen to attack through the West District. Its tall commercial buildings had provided ample protection from the prying eyes of the Citadel and its guns.

He had no idea what the hell was happening in there. The runner he'd sent had never returned, and there was still no word from anyone inside.

At this point, he was forced to consider retreat. But where? The only remaining friendly garrison was the MvB Base, nearly seven hours away by vehicle. And that was assuming they could even get out of the city. The Admin District had fighting in the streets by this point. Evacuating his soldiers out would be hard enough, let alone the civilians.

The docks would be an option, but reports were that some enemy forces had already penetrated the Ashford District near the Academy.

He'd put his comms officer to the task of raising the MvB Base, but thus far there had been no response from them either. It was like there was a complete communications blackout for everyone but him and his soldiers.

This was a waking nightmare.

* * *

Tetsuo scanned the horizon with his gunner sights. He and twenty-four other Tandems had been assigned to taking on the inbound Sutherland reinforcements. Normally he'd be worried about taking on a more experience and numerically superior force, but he had the advantage of range, at which the Tandem excelled.

Their scouts had sighted the reinforcements twenty minutes out, meaning that they were now due any second.

He nearly fired on reflex when he finally spotted them, but he remembered to wait for Sergeant Fontaine's orders.

" _Hold,_ " he ordered them.

The enemy closed to just over a mile, but they didn't seem to have sighted them atop the walls.

" _Hold..._ " came Fontaine's voice, and Tetsuo began to feel nervous. Their range advantage was slipping away by the second.

"FIRE!"

They opened up like the gates of hell. Rapid streams of autocannon fire decimated the column. They immediately broke up to avoid making for easy targets, but their stretch of highway offered little cover. The infrequent rounds they managed to shoot back were mostly blocked by the wall they were stationed on. Tetsuo smiled as he shot down an ejecting cockpit.

Britannian soldiers were to be offered no quarter.

* * *

Todoh had found his opening. From the position he'd taken in the hills, he could see down into Tokyo's West and South Districts. Although, if he remembered, the South District was more commonly called the Ashford District.

But he'd a bulbous Sutherland come down from the hills as well into that District, accompanied by that one custom protector Sutherland he'd seen when Zero had stolen the Guren and crippled Suzaku. It seemed to be the creature's bodyguard. That meant Zero was in the Ashford District, away from the majority of his men. From the looks of it he was stationed at the large complex in the center of the District that looked to be a school of some sort.

His quarry was in sight.

Most of the Britannian guards along the Southern Wall had been drawn away in an attempt to contain Zero's forces to the West. Thus, it was almost pathetically easy for he and his men to scale the wall with their Burai.

* * *

Hanzo knelt on the roof of the dormitory building, keeping watch. He felt proud at being assigned to protect Master Zero, despite being a mere infantryman. He was a Panzer man, while Tek next to him had an MG4 and Oda next to _him_ was equipped with a 417 Battle Rifle.

He swept the nearby streets with his binoculars, when something odd caught his eye. Knightmares were scaling the South Wall. Taking a closer look, his eyes widened in surprise. They were JLF Burai. He recognized them from the propaganda posters they used to wallpaper the Kyoto ghetto with. But what the hell were they doing here? They were no friends of Master Zero, and by extension the Black Knights. Were they just being opportunistic and joining in on the fighting or...

They made a beeline for his position, and he snapped into action.

" _Attention, attention, JLF Burai inbound on HQ,_ " he announced over his radio whike Tek and Oda snapped up to see for themselves. " _Unknown if hostile, but requesting position to engage. Have made no attempt to announce themselves._ "

There was a brief pause, before the voice of Master Zero himself crackled over the his comms. " _This is Zero. Permission granted to all units. Fire at will on JLF forces. Presume hostile._ "

He'd already half-loaded a Grapeshot round into his Panzer by the time the order was finished. With the weapon shouldered, he peered through the sight and activated the laser designator—aiming for the lead Burai.

Exhaling slowly, he squeezed the trigger.

* * *

Todoh had managed to get within four hundred yards of Zero's position before his forces fired. Amateurs. A rocket screamed down from one of the rooftops, and he simply strafed his frame slightly to the right without even losing speed. The men behind him, Suzaku included, did the same.

Then, about twenty yards out, the missile exploded and he lost five men as their cockpits were shredded by some sort of airburst shrapnel. He'd barely missed by sole virtue of moving at a dead speed and being past the killzone by the time it activated.

What the hell kind of equipment were these 'Black Knights' carrying? He'd never _seen_ weapons like that!

" _Scatter!_ " he immediately ordered his forces, and they split off to avoid being killed in a cluster like that again.

* * *

"Five confirmed kills," announced Hanzo as he loaded a Hunter rocket. "Oda, get a tag on that lead Burai. I'm pretty sure its the commander."

The taciturn rifleman nodded, removing his clip and inserting a second, special one. He took a moment to line up the shot, before firing a single bullet that pinged the charging Knightmare.

"Tagged. 111"

Hanzo spun the dials on the launcher until they matched up with the tag number, then fired the rocket.

* * *

Suzaku wanted blood. Zero was here. Zero was going to die.

His frame was right behind Todoh's as they beelined for the main school building. They weren't in engagement range for the enemy Knightmares, but rocket infantry were still giving them trouble.

Another rocket fired at Todoh, and they immediately parted to avoid another one of those cluster munitions. Then, the missile kept pursuing Todoh. He strafed and evaded, but it stayed right on him.

It struck his cockpit in the back.

The purple and pink flame of burning Sakuradite ignited his entire frame, and Suazku watched in numb horror as the ejection mechanism failed to trigger. Todoh's Burai collapsed to the ground, and Suzaku rushed his own over to assist.

He got within a few yards when Todoh's frame exploded with him inside it.

Then an unseen missile struck his own cockpit and he ejected away, the combined concussions and g-force knocking him senseless.

* * *

"That was definitely their commander," Hanzo remarked as the frame exploded and seemed to send the enemy into a bloodlust frenzy. They suicidally charged forward into the path of the Tandems, being gunned down one by one. He hadn't been able to fire a rocket in time to hit the one cockpit that had ejected towards the I-D Wall, but the Tandems had no such problem.

It was like ants in a blender. Even the handful of skilled and evasive frames were felled when the Zero Squad took to the field.

He felt that he should have felt worse about killing fellow Japanese, but Master Zero was right. The JLF were trash. Useless, incompetent, outdated, and arrogant trash worthy only of disposal by a proper military unit.

Regardless, Master Zero was now safe, and that was what mattered.

* * *

So his men had succeeded. Lelouch chuckled under his mask. For the briefest moment, upon being ambushed by fifty-some enemy Knightmares while he was under such light guard, he was actually quite concerned for his life.

Then he remembered that they were JLF.

Still, next time he vowed to follow the good words of Machiavelli in full. "If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared." He should have finished the JLF off himself, rather than let them fester like an old wound and apparently plot well-timed if ultimately ineffective vengeance against him. Had his guards not been so competent, not the Irregulars on standby, this could have gone _very_ badly.

He mentally filed it for further reflection in the future.

For now, victory was at hand. With the destruction of the reinforcements, the defenders had finally lost morale. The reports streaming over his comms indicated that there was a mass crumbling through the enemy defensive lines. His men were pushing through and had taken most of the Admin District, with a few preliminary teams preparing to assault the Citadel itself.

His Shadows had reported several attempts by the Citadel's garrison to retake their security center, but they had been well-equipped for such an eventuality and were able to hold the room.

Even better, General Smilas had just called in to announce his imminent arrival. The man's forces would give him the numbers he needed to sweep the city of hostiles and keep the civilians in line.

He'd won.

* * *

It happened too quickly for Colonel Spring to follow. His forces had been wavering, then in a single, sudden moment they'd cracked. The lines had collapsed, the defenses shattered. He was unsure of their accuracy, but most of his scarce reports indicated that their last hope, the reinforcement Sutherlands, had been massacred to a man before even entering the city.

He refused to be taken captive by these barbarians. Who knows what they would do to him.

As the gunfire closed to right outside the metro entrance, he drew his service revolver in turn with his remaining subordinates. As one, they placed the weapons to their temples and said prayers to god.

"Gentlemen," he said solemnly, "it's been a honor serving with you."

* * *

"My god..." muttered General Gene Smilas to himself as he and the French South African fleet sailed into Britannian waters completely without challenge. Not even a hail. A single distant patrol craft had sighted them and fled, but despite his expectations nothing had come of it.

The feared Britannian Pacific Fleet was nowhere to be seen. Zero had actually managed to completely disable it.

Scarcely believing it, he'd sent a few scout VTOLs up to the Marianne vi Britannia Naval Base, only to find every ship there still in harbor. The Admiral had flagged down one of the scouts and offered his unconditional surrender.

Apparently, Zero had detonated some sort of weapon that disabled everything in their base that ran on or used Sakuradite. Which, in these days, was virtually everything.

The things he could do with a weapon like that...

But regardless, as promised he sailed his full fleet up to the Tokyo harbor. There were still occasional pockets of gunfire from the city, but it sounded like clean up work, which he'd brought his men to assist with. Hundreds of transport VTOLs flew up from the decks of the carriers, unloading French infantry to help contain the civilians and provide the sheer manpower necessary to secure the whole city.

He personally took one to the private academy where Zero had told them he'd established his headquarters, as the Viceroy's Citadel was still unsecured. When he landed, there was a large honor guard of mixed Japanese resistance soldiers and Pip Bernadotte's Wild Geese.

Then the man himself emerged. He... certainly had presence. The EU's populist democracy bred weak leaders. Smilas had been dealing with them his entire life and they sickened him to his very core. They could bluster like bears, but in the end of the day there were snakes.

Zero was not a weak man. He was like a lion. He walked like a man who held the world in his grip. He walked like a man to whom 'consequences' were something other people worried about.

Smilas liked him.

Flanked by a positively _towering_ giant of a man, Zero stepped up to greet him. "General Smilas," he chuckled with extended hand, "we meet at last."

"So we do. I must ask, how does it feel to bring a superpower to its knees with just two thousand men?"

He got the impression of a smirk under the mask. "How does it feel to decisively win a global conflict without firing a shot?"

"Like you and I shall be the toast of the entire Union tonight. We'll be in newspapers and television broadcasts. The moment circumstances permit, Minister Philippe invites you to Paris for a victory celebration in your honor."

"On the people's dime, I imagine?"

"Who else's?" he chuckled.

They laughed together, before Zero beckoned and began leading him inside. "Come, it would be poor form to carry this conversation on the lawn like this. Come inside for that drink I promised you."

* * *

Breathing hard and aching all over, Suzaku hauled himself out of the ejected Burai cockpit. He hurt, but his body he ignored in favor of his heart. Todoh was dead. In fact, according to his cockpit's IFF map, _everyone_ was dead.

He was the last one. Zero had finally taken everything from him.

Almost in a trance he wandered through the war-torn streets, his pistol clutched in his grip. Eventually he tripped over something. Looking down, he saw a corpse in some sort of black military uniform with a helmet and bandanna. This must be one of Zero's 'Black Knights'. Vermin.

Right as he was about to continue onward, an idea forced its way through the fog of his furious and grieving mind.

* * *

To Smilas' surprise, he managed to enjoy a positively _divine_ bottle of scotch with Zero despite not actually viewing the man's face. Once the drinks were poured, the man tapped the side of his mask a few times, then took a sip and the glass simply phased through the opaque mask.

"Optical deflector," he explained at the unasked question. "The light's reflected in such a way that the section of the mask appears to be there when it actually is not. Quite handy in instances such as these."

Not caring much for smalltalk, Smilas opted to cut right to the heart of the matter and see how Zero reacted. "So, I believe you had a matter you wished to discuss with me?"

"A man after my own heart. And that is precisely why I reached out to you specifically, General Smilas. I followed EU politics vigorously for years, searching for a figure who possessed the qualities I needed. I landed on you, General."

Smilas swirled his scotch, a small smile in the corner of his mouth. "Color me intrigued. And please, call me Gene. You've advanced my career by at least a decade today."

"I believe that you and I, Gene, share very similar views on the problems plaguing the Union. Not the war or the famine or the FPA, but the root problem problem that permits all three: democracy. The rule of the easily led and misinformed. Your Vox Populi party enables and feeds on this through their liberal populism. Your Pax Romana party is more along the right line with their desire for more centralized power, but they're still incorrect and both of us know that."

"I do, but what alternative is there? We _are_ at the end of the day a democracy. Short of convincing the entire Hemicycle to throw out the Treaty of Concert and name someone Emperor, we will continue to be bedeviled by these problems."

Zero leaned in close, and the air turned heavy. "But, Gene, that is _precisely_ what I am proposing."

It was mad. Smilas knew it in his head, yet for some reason his gut urged him to continue hearing the man out. "That is patently impossible, but go on."

"You underestimate my abilities, Gene. All of the framework is there for this plan to succeed, it only requires a handful of ambitious gentlemen such as ourselves to carry out. A number of EU members are already empires. With just the right platform and members, a third party could arise in the Union and win their support. Then, it would just take the right political maneuvering to see the rest of the Hemicycle fold as their own democracy turns against them."

Gene took a sip from his glass, mulling over the offer over. It was dead serious, and if Zero's obvious military proficiency carried over into the political realm, it was at least worth considering. "What would you need from me?"

"You're a well-respected man throughout the Union. With your public vote of confidence, a great deal of the doors I need access to would open. Additionally, I'm going to need the use of yourself and some of your most experienced veterans for a military endeavor."

"And, assuming that you were to succeed in this mad bid for Emperor of Europe, what would I receive in return for such loyalty?"

Zero chuckled. "Such a mercenary attitude, Gene. I'm surprised. But rest assured, the perks would be... substantial. Power, prestige, a Pax Europa, victory over Britannia, command of the world's most powerful military, the establishment of a thousand year New Order, and best of all: you'd get to see Minister Philippe and his ilk go down in history as enemies to the greatest political movement in history."

"You ask much, for such a slim chance of victory. What assurance have I that you can and will deliver?" If he backed something like this publicly and it backfired, he would be ruined. A lifetime of scraping and clawing his way to power wasted. But if this succeeded, he would achieve everything he wanted. Zero knew him well.

A... mysterious note entered Zero's cultured voice. "I'm afraid that I can't disclose its full nature in this conversation—both because I would have to physically show it for you to believe it and for security reasons—but I possess a... trump card that will make this endeavor not just possible, but likely. It is what enabled carry out this revolution with such ease."

Gene wanted to agree, but he hadn't gotten this far in life without exercising caution. "You make a tempting offer, Zero. Very tempting. Yet I can't leap into something like this without seeing your 'trump card'. If its as impressive as you claim, by allegiance is yours. If not, then to be perfectly frank you're not a man worth allying with."

"And my respect rises a notch. Of course. Rest assured that my trump card _is_ as good as I claim. Once the city is secure and the festivities complete, I shall introduce you to it."

"I wait with bated breath," he chuckled, finishing his glass.

* * *

Hirito stood in the streets of Matsumoto with Akari at his side. And they weren't alone.

A sea of fellow Japanese filled the streets around him, all fixated on the enormous video screen that had been set up for their borough. He and the others had been called away from work by the Neo-Japanese Ministry to view a 'special broadcast direct from Master Zero'. Hirito had to admit that he was _very_ curious. Whenever the man delivered a speech, it meant that something enormous had occurred.

The image of a flag appeared on the screen. It resembled the flag of the old Japanese Emperor, but the center bore the crest of the Black Knights: a black kite shield trimmed with silver and adorned with a golden cross.

Then the image faded away to reveal a live feed. The first thing he saw was the background—a monolithic castle with a massive banner of the same flag draped down the front. Then he saw the raised pedestal, and the two massive rows of Black Knights in body armor with assault rifles flanking it.

A song played. The Imperial Japanese anthem. Hearing it for the first time in six years brought a single tear to his eye. And he was one of the least emotive among the crowd.

Master Zero emerged, dressed in a fine but tasteful arraignment. At his side walked a beautiful Japanese woman, and he held her hand like a king escorting his queen.

"Citizens of Neo-Japan!" he called out in a triumphant voice as the anthem came to a close. "Rejoice! As of today, you are free men and women!"

The words took a moment to process for the many citizens, before a deafening cheer thundered through the whole of Matsumoto.

"As of one hour ago, Neo-Japan is a liberated and sovereign nation. Our new allies in Europa United have offered us full inclusion into their alliance and agreed to help shield us from our enemies. Those enemies, the Britannian Occupation, have surrendered to our brave Black Knights. Britannia has renounced all claims to their 'Area 11', and as a member of Europa United we are now included in the six year ceasefire agreement they just signed with Prime Minister Schneizel."

Akari wept as she cried into his shoulder, and he could only rub her back dumbly. Master Zero had not only ousted the Britannians as promised, but he'd gotten them admitted into the EU and included in a six year ceasefire agreement? That was... incredible.

"And the question now arises of what we shall do with this newfound freedom? We need a government, a government free from the faults of the past. The late Prime Minister Kururugi and the Sakuradite magnates he supported brought the war about with their greed and arrogance. Their ilk can not be permitted power again!"

Hirito cheered in agreement, as did the Black Knights on the screen.

"We as a nation have long been an empire, but the Britannians murdered our former Emperor and his family, leaving us with no embodiment of the people. But I have found a solution: I present to you my wife, Lady Kaguya Sumeragi—rightful heiress to the Japanese throne."

There was a murmur as people recognized the name, and realized Master Zero's intentions.

"I am no tyrant, I will not ascend without a mandate from the masses, so I ask of you citizens of Neo-Japan: will you accept Lady Sumeragi and I as your rightful Empress and Emperor? Will you let us lead Neo-Japan into a bright and glorious future?"

Did he even need to ask? Every man, woman, and child in the street screamed their unanimous support. It echoed off the buildings and into the heavens. It _was_ glorious.

"Hail, Emperor Zero!" chanted the Black Knights on screen. "Hail! Empress Kaguya!"

Then as one they knelt before their new Emperor.

Well, all except one...

* * *

As his beloved Kaguya stood on stage next to Zero and let him announce her as his wife, something inside Suzaku snapped. But with the last of his dwindling self control he waited for the perfect moment. He waited for the climax.

"Hail! Emperor Zero! Hail! Empress Kaguya!"

The dogs surrounding him knelt to their idol, and then he struck. He drew his pistol and took aim. Both the Black Knights and concealed bodyguards moved to stop him, but they were all too slow.

His sights lined up on Zero's black heart. His finger caressed the trigger. The bullet had already struck, it was just a matter of proving it to the world.

Then his hand twitched involuntarily, and the pistol barked. But he had succeeded. Zero crashed to the ground like Icarus falling from the sky, beautiful crimson lifeblood leaking from his chest. An enormous man leapt to shield his master and drag him to safety while a masked woman dove at him. Her hand shattered his wrist in a single punch, and when her other hand struck him in the throat he crumbled.

Yet, a smile lit his face. Revenge was his.

* * *

From her quarters in the bowels of Fulcrum's Bunker, C.C snapped up in utter panic. Half-dressed but uncaring, she sprinted for the medical quarter.

* * *

Gasping like a dying fish, Lelouch awoke in Fulcrum's medical wing. He soon realized that the analogy was somewhat accurate.

"We don't have a lot of time, Your Highness," Asplund informed him calmly, but he could tell the man was barely keeping a hold of it. "The bullet nicked your heart. You're bleeding out internally, and without Meld I can't fix it before you bleed out. But with your Geass, Meld would kill you. If you wish to survive, you'll have to advance to Stage Two earlier than necessary. Without it, you have maybe half an hour."

Lelouch took in stride as best he could, considering he'd just been told he was minutes away from death. "Is Project Lazarus at an operational state?" he asked softly.

"I don't know how it would interact with a natural Geass yet. If you want to guarantee that you'll live, you will unfortunately need Miss C.C's Code instead of an artificial one."

That wasn't good. While he knew that C.C ultimately sought death from their arrangement, the death of his Code contractor would mean the dissolution of his own Geass. And his plans for Europe necessitated his Geass. But what choice did he have?

Then the woman in question rushed in. "Lelouch," she shouted desperately, before spotting him and dashing to his side.

"C.C," he chuckled weakly despite the pain. "I didn't know you cared so much."

"Quiet, boy," she ordered, and he was puzzled to hear genuine fear and concern in her tone. He knew that at least in the beginning of their relationship she had been coldheartedly manipulating him into a path that would lead him to master his Geass quickly. When had she stated caring? "Will you need my Code?"

He nodded regretfully. "It seems I'll have to. Though this throws a wrench into my plans, what choice have I?

She bit her lip in one of her rare outward displays of emotion. Conflict, in this instance. Whatever she was deciding was incredibly important to her. "Lelouch," she said eventually, "I've... been doing some thinking these past few years. Now is not the time for my whole thought process, but my desire for death stemmed from a lifetime of seeing people commit the same mistakes time after time and never learning from them."

A small tear welled up in her eye. "But I've seen you grow, these last six years. I didn't think it possible, but the world you will create is a world I think I could bear to live in. I-I don't think I need you to take my Code anymore. I can always get another contractor to end my life in the future should I decide, but I can't get another contractor who can change the world for the better like you."

This was... an astounding moment of honesty and selflessness from the taciturn witch. They'd barely spoken the last few months. When had she reached this decision? Was she really willing to give up her sought death just so that he could see his plans carried out? The original purpose of their contract?

"But I still need a Code in order to survive this."

She laid a soft hand on his shoulder. "You have one. He's unconscious in the dungeons, if you'll recall."

V.V? "Would that work? Taking another Code Bearer's Code?"

She nodded. That would work then... but what about Meld?

"Asplund," he beckoned, and the doctor approached. "What's the status of Project Ouroboros?"

"Much more successful. The synthetic Meld is still in the prototype stage, but we have more than enough reserves to last until its perfected should you decide to... liquidate our current source."

"Wheel me down to the dungeons, then. Quick."

* * *

His vision was beginning to go hazy as they finally reached V.V's cell, Asplund nearly running with the gurney and attached IV. The guards saw their approach and leapt to open the door—unaware of their purpose but recognizing the urgency.

The immortal's infantile body was still encased in his overkill restraints, in addition to the medical equipment to keep him comatose and producing Meld.

His arms shook, but he sat up and grasped the scalpel Asplund provided for him. Breathing slowly, he called his Geass forth into both eyes and the feeling of power that flowed through him enabled him to take the final step and thrust the scalpel into V.V's neck. It sank into the flesh with contemptuous ease and a spray of arterial blood splattered into his face.

That was the last thing he saw. What filled his vision next was...

He'd never taken psychedelic drugs before, but he could only imagine that the things he witnessed would make them seem tame. For a single moment he seemed to be one with the universe.

Then power flowed through him. Power like he'd never felt before. Power that flowed through his veins and bones and muscles and organs. Power to shape the world. Power to destroy it.

His vision returned in full clarity, and he could feel his body shift uncomfortably. A small rattle drew his attention to the floor where a small, mangled bullet was coming to a rest. He looked at his chest only to see a small scar where the bullet had once entered.

Hesitantly, fearing the consequences if it did not, he willed his Geass forward. To his relief it answered eagerly, more eagerly than it had ever answered in the past.

C.C's hand clasped his shoulder, and he turned to meet her amused gaze.

"Well, Your Majesty," she joked, "welcome to the world of immortals."


	17. Chapter 17: The Gauntlet Thrown

**And welcome back, readers! Emperor Neolyph here with more Darwin! This is a sort of downtime/transition chapter to set the stage for the next arc. The final loose ends are wrapped up, and the gauntlet is thrown down. Next chapter will be the official beginning to Act 2. Pre-warning for a lemon/limey bit at the end of this chapter. You'll see it coming.**

 **Now, for reviews!**

 **chunnin33: Shit, that's high praise. Great to hear though. I tried to make the chain of events flow from scene to scene, and I'm glad it worked out.**

 **Meaningless Us3rname: Villetta killed herself after eliminating the military command staff**

 **chimera629: Suzaku was shot over a month before last chapter. Depending on how skilled the knee surgery was and the level of rehab, one could feasibly at least limp with over a month of recovery. Given that they were in a warzone and a lot of the infantry got injured, nobody looked twice at him for that once he was disguised. Lelouch's usual gear _is_ bulletproof, but he was dressed in an elaborate formal uniform because he wasn't really expecting an assassination attempt from his corp of loyal Black Knights.**

 **Akuma-Heika: I gave him thirty minutes so there wasn't the pressing question of why he's bothering with dialogue when he's dying. Technically, I was giving him thirty minutes to live but drastically less than that to stay lucid enough to make the call of whether or not he was going to take C.C's Code. I do appreciate the point, but I think I'll leave as is. Thanks though for pointing that out.**

 **CreedMaster1715: Well the first time I watched Code Geass this was how I thought it was going to end. While I do appreciate the original ending, this is kind of my 'what if' story. What if Lelouch had found a way to achieve what I originally thought the show was named after.**

 **Dany le fou: Well originally I was keeping her in the background because I was intending to kill her last chapter. But after thinking about it, I realized that C.C is too much of a fan favorite for me to kill her off without a major backlash. So instead I'm going to retroactively work her back in.**

 **BlackTyrantValvatorez: Considering that Lelouch is the son of an Emperor out to kill his father and steal his throne, Lelouch isn't going to open that Pandora's Box on himself by having children. As a now immortal, the need doesn't really exist either.**

 **RandomReview: First off, I really appreciate the articulate negative review, beyond pedantic nitpicking or a 'you suk, dropped'. My original intention was to do as you suggested and trade off the Geass for the Code, and kill C.C in the process. But I realized that ultimately even the loss of his own Geass would be a relatively minor negative for Lelouch, as he still has people like Mao who could just memory-wipe people into obeying him. So rather than kill off a fan-favorite character like C.C for something that ultimately wouldn't really hinder Lelouch, I just somewhat ass-pulled a resolution out and I fully admit that. This is something of a curbstomp story, but one I feel still fits within the bound of the CG universe. My problem is that I think that a lot of the stakes in the CG universe would legitimately be avoidable if the characters just acted sensibly. And I as a writer struggle to come up with conflict and struggles that don't feel contrived. With my personality, I can only think of solutions, not problems. The only consolation I can offer to you as a reader would be to look at this story as something like 'V for Vendatta', where you have an intelligent, competent, and charismatic anti-hero who has spent years upon years planning out an intricate revolution—except instead of overthrowing Britain he's taking over the world. I hope that I haven't lost you as a reader, as you're clearly looking at my story with the sort of critical eye I need to improve as a writer. Thank you.**

 **shazarakk: Mind if I ask what part of the AN originally turned you off? Because if it comes across as inaccurate I don't want to lose potential readers.**

 **And on with the show!**

Chapter 17: The Gauntlet Thrown

In his private study, Charles picked up his wine glass, part of a twelve-thousand pound set and crafted by one of the greatest artisans of Britannia. He drained it in a single gulp and then pitched it against the wall.

Area 11 was officially lost. Schneizel had signed a six year ceasefire with the Europeans. His most competent general had vanished from the earth.

His world without lies was now impossible.

A life's work, wasted. He and Marianne and Vincent had butchered their way onto the throne for it, they had brought nation after nation to their knees for it. They had created an entire philosophy, religion, and culture to justify their search for it. And now it was impossible because of a single bloody uprising on a tiny, God-forsaken island in the Pacific.

He laughed bitterly to himself, and the sound echoed through the ornate room like a funeral hymn. Funny, how life worked out sometimes, wasn't it? Maybe this was just the Collective Unconscious preemptively shutting him down. Maybe like with Joan of Arc, it had enabled Zero to surgically strike down his plan before its completion.

Which, he supposed, technically made Zero an avenging angel.

Another laugh escaped his throat, but then something else happened. Pain filled him. White hot, coursing pain the likes of which he had never felt before. It burned through his nerves, up his spine, into his brain, and out of his eyes.

Geass. Something was wrong with his Geass.

He collapsed to his knees, feebly calling for Bismarck with his strangled throat. The door to his study opened, and his Knight collapsed into it—twitching and spasming under the weight of his own malfunctioning Geass. Both men spent the next minute in debilitating agony as their powers seemed intent to drive them mad with sheer pain. For a brief moment, Charles wondered if this was how he would die. Taken in some sort of unknown accident by his own powers.

But then it stopped. Choking and gasping, both he and Bismarck managed to hoist themselves into sitting positions.

"What..." huffed Bismarck between breaths, "What _was_ that, Your Majesty?"

"I don't know," he confessed, blinking his burning eyes. "Something to do with our Geass. Get up, we have to check on Marianne and the Ragnarok Connection."

The Knight snapped into action at the orders, jerking himself to his feet and assuming a ready posture. He stepped over to aid Charles up, despite him technically being the smaller of the pair thanks to Charles' imposing build.

They trailed through the Palace's private corridors to the secret entrance of the Thought Elevator. Fortunately it still worked and they soon found themselves standing before the Sword of Akasha.

"Charles, my love," his beloved Marianne exclaimed upon seeing them, leaping forward to embrace him. "Something happened. Something bad. I-I think I've lost my Geass."

His eyes widened. "It happened to you too?"

She nodded. "I felt this horrifying pain, but at the same time I almost felt... insulated from it. When I tried possessing that servant you left for me to come and find you, I couldn't. My Geass wouldn't respond."

Wary comprehension welling up inside him, Charles activated his own Geass. Or rather, tried to. The familiar muscle-memory was still there, but the power didn't seem to respond. In fact, it didn't seem to be there at all.

"Bismarck," he ordered quickly, "use you Geass."

The man glanced at the two of them, then produced a dagger from his belt and neatly sliced open the stitches enclosing his left eye. He blinked several times as the eye adjusted to the Sword of Akasha's light, but the distinctive red glow and sigil did not appear.

"I-I can't, Your Majesty," he reported needlessly, shock filling his tone.

A deep, concerned frown marred Charles' face. This was not good. All three of them had lost the ability to use their Geass. All at the same time. The first explanation that came to his mind filled him with dread. There was always the possibility of some other circumstances bringing this about, but Occam's Razor told him the likeliest. "I think Vincent may be dead," he intoned darkly.

"Dead?" questioned Marianne, a distinct lack of concern for the man in her voice. But Charles could understand that. He had murdered her, after all

"He and C.C have been in the wind for six years now. All of us were contracted to him. If he gave someone a Geass and they double-crossed him, or C.C contracted with someone and they tracked him down, his death _would_ dissolve all three of our contracts with him."

Bismarck coughed slightly, drawing their attention. "Well, there _is_ one way to confirm that hypothesis, Your Majesties."

* * *

Minutes later, Charles was glaring down at his brother's ethereal from as his brother glared back up at him.

"Vincent."

"Charles."

Vincent's gaze shifted to Marianne at his brother's side, and pure loathing appeared in his eyes. "I should have known that the Geass I gave you would have let you squirm your way out of that assassination. I should've had my men kill everyone in that manor."

In her semi-ethereal state, Marianne learned that it was actually possible to punch a spirit hard enough to break its nose.

"Marianne, dear," Charles reminded her gently, placing a hand on her arm and giving her a significant glance. Vincent was dead, and it was crucially important to find out who had killed him. An immortal with the ability to give out Geass was not an individual they could tolerate running around while they were running an empire and trying to conquer the world.

His wife scoffed, before storming away. He'd killed her and forced her to send her children to one of about forty safehouses she'd set up around the globe. It had been important that Vincent, even with his resources, was unable to track them down in the event of her death. She wasn't going to be civil with him in the same room.

With the woman gone, Vincent righted himself and returned to staring a hole through his brother's face.

"What happened?" Charles finally asked.

"Your vermin of a son, is what happened," his brother spat. "Your slut of a wife, is what happened. Her rat's nest of a household, is what happened, my dearest brother."

Charles glared. "Brother, do you want to to be angry and spiteful at me, or do you want to explain where you've been?"

"Like I said," he growled between gritted teeth, "that would be a good question for that woman's spawn."

"Lelouch?"

" _Lelouch_. The little brat jumped me at my facility in Japan with a bunch of Marianne's soldiers. One of them shot me in the head, next thing I know I wake up here. You look... older, brother."

So Lelouch had ended up in Japan? He'd thought for certain that they'd have gone to one of the Chinese safehouses. With the amount of money Marianne had in her emergency assets, they could have lived like kings there and been permanently safe from Britannian influence. What had possessed them to go to the much smaller and more vulnerable Japan?

"Well six years of separation will do that to you Vincent. What were you and Lelouch doing in Area 11?"

His brother's childish face wrinkled with confusion. "What do you mean six years? Last we spoke was when you banished me to watch over C.C's facility in Australia, a little over a month ago. And since it hardly matters now that I'm dead, I'm pleased to inform you that I ignored your temper tantrum and had the woman moved to my own private facility beneath Tokyo. Everything was perfect until, once again, Marianne and her brats caused problems."

"Vincent," he said clearly, both suppressing his anger and trying to get the point across to his brother's... unique way of thinking, "that conversation was over six years ago."

"But that's..." his brother spluttered. Then some sort of realization struck him. "That bitch! That whore!"

"Vincent!" Charles finally snapped. "You will keep a civil tongue when talking about Marianne if we are to continue this conversation. Regardless of your feelings towards her, she is my wife and you will treat her with a little respect."

He waved his hand, ignoring him. "Not Marianne, you fool, C.C. After your brat took out my staff and I, they must have woke her up and put me in a coma or something, like we were doing with her. And if she gave one of them a Geass... they could have killed me. And worse, whoever killed me now has a Code Geass."

Lelouch. It had to be Lelouch. So six years ago his son and Marianne's household had somehow stumbled across Vincent's private facility while hiding in Japan. They incapacitated them, put Vincent in a coma, and woke C.C up. Considering he'd betrayed and imprisoned her, she'd probably want revenge. And lo and behold there was her enemy's son, grinding an axe against his father for supposedly assassinating his mother. A more perfect contractor there was not.

Another realization struck him. And then six years later, right as Lelouch would be turning into an adult, a masked revolutionary arises in Japan and carries out a series of devastating, seemingly impossible victories against the Occupation, hamstringing the entire Britannian military in one fell swoop.

He burst out laughing. Oh of all his children, truly Lelouch was the most like him. He and Marianne had sent the boy out on his own with a few mentors, some liquid assets, and a plane. Six years later he's leading a homegrown army and bringing his father's superpower down all by himself. He'd even gotten his hands on a Code Geass, something only recorded in the legends of Geass history.

"Bismarck," he instructed, "get the full story from Vincent. I have to check on a few things."

"As you command, Your Majesty."

In truth, he just didn't want to talk with his brother anymore. After finding out that he was still an arrogant, jealous little shit, he didn't think he'd be able to keep a civil conversation much longer.

Marianne met him at the exit to the Sword of Akasha. "What did he say?"

"That our son has been very productive these last six years."

* * *

The mood in the Matsumoto streets was a combination of tense and mourning. For a single, glorious moment they were a nation once more. They had an Emperor on television giving speeches with a beautiful Empress at his side. They had a military keeping them safe, and jobs for everyone. They were included in treaties and had allies protecting them.

Then someone put a bullet through all of it.

Seeing Emperor Zero fall to the stage, blood spurting from his chest, it was like everything in the past months had been some sort of cruel joke. They half expected the Purists to suddenly appear once more and start gunning down anyone that stood out.

Commander Kozuki of the Black Knights had taken to the stage afterward and announced the assassin to be Suzaku Kururugi—a JLF member and son of the former Prime Minister. It confirmed everything their Emperor had just told them about how the old democracy had been out to destroy their new Neo-Japan.

Hirito cracked his knuckles, wishing he could watch whatever happened to Kururugi after Emperor Zero's bodyguards had dragged him inside the Citadel.

She had gone on to announce that Emperor Zero was still alive and being seen to by trained professionals in an undisclosed location. As soon as he was stable, he would reappear to once more address his subjects.

So they waited. It had been over half an hour by this point, and still the screens remained blank.

Then, they weren't.

They filled once more with an image of the Citadel with Emperor Zero's banner hanging over it. The security was much tighter now, a number of white-masked figures actually on the stage with rifles bared. With a low groan the massive doors behind the stage opened and mixed sounds of relief and shock filled the air as Emperor Zero emerged once more.

He walked with a straight back and confident posture, yet it was simultaneously clear that he was still injured and in pain. Still, walking like that less than an hour after being shot in the chest was outright miraculous.

Two figures escorted him on his sides, one lithe and female, the other enormous and masculine.

Steadying himself on the podium, he looked into the camera and spoke once more with clear diction. "Citizens of Neo-Japan, I deeply apologize for the interruption to your victory celebration. Peace and prosperity will always have their enemies, and never has that been more apparent to me. Rest assured, those concerned, that my condition is stable. The bullet went clean through and I will make a speedy recovery so that I might continue leading us into the future."

An ear-shattering cheer went up, both on the television and in Matsumoto. Women wept and men smiled at the knowledge that the man who freed them from the Britannians wouldn't disappear so easily.

"The would-be assassin, Suzaku Kururugi, has been taken into custody, found guilty, and summarily executed."

Once more, the people cheered. Seeing their newly-crowned Emperor almost killed mere second into office had been more than they could take. The only thing better than Kururugi's death would have been it being a public execution.

"Now I'm afraid that I must return to my doctor before he comes out here to drag me back," he said bemusedly, and everyone chuckled. "But before I go, I thank you, the people of Neo-Japan, for the trust and faith you have placed in me. Let this be the beginning of a New Order!"

The Black Knights on stage snapped to a salute, and the Imperial Anthem played once more as Zero turned and was assisted back into the Citadel.

* * *

Once out of sight, Lelouch stood fully and broke away from Sayoko and Jeremiah. Despite that, both of them stayed in a position where they were nearly breathing down his neck and checking for threats around every corner. His near-brush with death had shaken both of them, it seemed.

Funnily enough, it was now something of a moot point. He could face a firing squad armed with flamethrowers now and still come out unscathed. But if letting them be a bit overprotective helped alleviate their guilt, he could bear it.

Gene was waiting for them in the luxurious office they'd lent him to oversee his soldiers from while they secured the remained of the city.

On Lelouch's instructions, everyone in the North District was being relocated to secure holding warehouses in the Ashford District to be processed and ransomed. Considering that the Britannian nobility collectively held most of the nation's wealth, he estimated a total ransom somewhere in the realm of one or two trillion pounds. The Sakuradite market was lucrative, and a lot of nobles had wanted a bite. Now, they were going to pay for it.

"Zero," said Gene, a surprised look on his face, "I must say, you look better than you did on the television there."

He chuckled. "Well that ties in to my 'trump card'. This way, if you please."

Intrigued, the general followed them out the Citadel's escape tunnel and into the Ashford Underground. A small wheeled shuttle awaited them, one of the vehicles the Ashford workers used to navigate the long and winding corridors. Jeremiah drove and Sayoko took shotgun while Lelouch and Smilas sat down in the back.

"You see, Gene," said Lelouch as the vehicle started towards the Fulcrum's tunnel entrance, "six years ago my followers and I made a discovery beneath Tokyo. Let me ask you: what do you think separated titans like Alexander, Caesar, and Napoleon from the average man?"

The Frenchman gave him an odd look. "Well, it's obvious. Good breeding, intelligence, superior education, charisma, and fortunate circumstances."

"Wrong. They possessed all of those, true, but there was a key factor that united and enabled them to rise above their fellow man. A factor unknown to the world at large, but key to the most powerful and notable men in history. I, Gene, have unlocked the secret to this power."

"Power?" scoffed Smilas. "Like magic? Were Emperor Napoleon capable of sorcery, I think it would have made the history books."

"Stop the shuttle," Lelouch ordered and Jeremiah pulled it to a halt. Gene looked at him warily, and he stepped off. "What I'm going to explain next—well, with a man like yourself it would save a great deal of effort to demonstrate before I explain.

He drew the revolver from his holster and handed it grip-first to a confused Gene. The general inspected it briefly, before looking up.

"Inspect it please, and assure yourself that it is functional and loaded."

Gene did so. Despite his aristocratic background, he'd enlisted in the French military as a private—all the better to nobly work his way up the ranks and win the respect of his soldiers. The revolver was indeed loaded, with hollow-point rounds in the cylinder.

"It's loaded..." he said slowly, not quite understanding Zero's point.

"Now shoot me with it."

He blinked, having not expected that instruction. A glance to the man's bodyguards saw them standing aside with no attempt to explain or intervene. "Shoot you? Is this some sort of trick"

"It's the furthest thing from a trick. I wish to demonstrate the power that I have uncovered. I could have Mr. Orange or Ms. Black do it if you're uncomfortable, but I feel the point would come across best were you the one to pull the trigger."

This was absurd. He didn't know what kind of powerplay Zero was trying to pull here, but he wasn't going to play along into it. "Respectfully, I'm not going to shoot the leader of an EU member state—regardless of whatever clandestine 'powers' he claims to have."

Zero sighed, before snatching the gun from his hand and awkwardly holding the barrel to his own heart. "Ms. Black, please inform Bella that I'll need my general's uniform repaired and dry-cleaned tonight."

Then he pulled the trigger, and the gunshot echoed loudly through the empty corridors. With his weak, unwieldy grip the recoil wrenched the revolver from his grip and sent it clattering to the ground. His body followed a second later, spurts of arterial blood shooting from the quarter-size hole where his heart was.

" ** _MERDE!_** " swore Gene involuntarily, looking and seeing that the two masked bodyguards were doing nothing about their dead charge.

Then there was a wet cough behind Zero's mask and like a zombie rising from a grave he stood once more. Gene took an involuntary step backwards in horror.

Zero coughed once more, before pulled his mask off and allowing a pool of blood to pour out from inside of it. To his surprise, Zero wasn't Japanese. He looked European, French, even.

"Sayoko," he said, apparently addressing the female bodyguard as she stiffened at the order, "make a note to have Ashford adjust my Zero mask. If I cough up blood inside it, the breathing filters get clogged."

"Noted," she replied in a clipped tone at the grim command.

That language. "You're English?" he asked, that being the only question he could think of. The whole 'resurrection' thing, his mind was stubbornly refusing to process.

"Britannian, technically, but that's for a later discussion," he answered with a dismissive handwave. "What's important is that I've demonstrated to you, in part, the Power of the Kings: Geass. It is the hidden and ancient power that has guided mankind through the ages. Nearly every great ruler who changed the course of history for the better, did so with the aid of Geass."

Gene closed his eyes, shaking his head at the impossibility of it all. "So it... what, allows you come back from the dead? I don't think that worked for Alexander, Caesar, _or_ Emperor Napoleon."

A smirk highlighted Zero's aristocratic face. "Not quite. I have an advanced form of Geass that nobody in history has achieved, to the best of my knowledge. A typical Geass bestows an individual with a single, very specific and powerful ability based on their deepest desire."

"Such as?"

"Well, when I received my Geass at thirteen, at the core I desired the power to lead and command. Thus, I received the Geass of Absolute Obedience. I can force anyone that meets my eyes to obey a single, absolute order. Whether that's to take their own life, disable the Mt. Fuji Mines' automated defenses, lock themselves in the Citadel's command center and slaughter everyone inside—the possibilities are endless. Others can read minds, predict an enemy's movements, alter someone's memories. _Endless_."

Like a melting candle, Gene slowly slid down the corridor wall until he was sitting on the floor. His hands gripped the side of his hand like a drowning man grasping a life-preserver. "Where... where does the power _come_ from? What _is_ it actually?"

Zero smiled sympathetically. "That's not entirely known. My head scientist's best postulation is that its a latent psychic ability of sorts. The next stage in humanity's evolution, you might say. It's also been proposed to me that its a supernatural ability bestowed by the Collective Unconsciousness of mankind to guide and protect it."

The man sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him as his understanding of the world was unraveled.

"As for where it comes from, it comes in two stages. A worthy individual is bestowed a Geass by an immortal called a Code Bearer, who does not bear a Geass themselves. If a Geass user survives long enough to master their power, they can kill the Code Bearer and take their immortality—although the death of the Code Bearer will remove their Geass. Then the cycle repeats."

"So you're a... 'Code Bearer', then?" he asked, his voice distant and weak. It was starting to come together, but he was still struggling to avoid what felt like a panic attack.

"Not quite. I, through unique circumstances, ended up with custody of a second Code Bearer. Thus, when the time came, I killed him instead of my own and achieved what is called a 'Code Geass'. My own Code Bearer, C.C, tells me that as far as she knows, that has never happened in history."

"C.C?"

A small chuckle resounded from Zero. "I think you'd be very interested to meet with her. She was the one who gave Napoleon his Geass, although the revolutionaries killed him before it reached fruition."

That snapped Gene out of it. "She knew Emperor Napoleon?"

Zero nodded. "She was a close confidante of his, in fact. They met when his men shot her during their Italian campaign, and when she didn't die he rescued her from being burned as a witch. She offered him Geass in return. He received the Geass of Absolute Authority. When he used it, anyone who looked at him universally recognized him as their superior. It's why he was so easily able to bend more powerful statesmen to his will. But its also why the revolutionaries killed him. They realized they couldn't beat him politically or militarily, so they settled for assassination."

"So Geass can be a double-edged sword?"

"Certainly. C.C told me of a contractor she once had who was able to hear the thoughts of everyone around him. But he lost control of it, and the constant barrage of thoughts drove him mad and he took his own life."

Smilas gulped. "That's horrifying."

"Indeed," Zero agreed, a sober expression on his face, "but it is also a great power. With it, one has the power to shape the world. You understand now why I believe my plan to unite Europe under my leadership to be likely, do you not?"

"You could just _command_ the Hemicycle to throw out the Treaty of Concert and name you Emperor..." he muttered, his voice once more sounding far away.

"Not quite," he chuckled. "The Hemicycle I could bring under my control easily, but that sort of regime change would receive massive backlash from the general public—and I couldn't Geass them all. So I'm going to take advantage of this ceasefire with Britannia to stabilize the Union, strengthen it, and win the support of the common people. Once its secured, _then_ I can enact my bid for Emperor."

A booming laughter flew from Smilas' mouth as he rose. "An Emperor of Europe!" he cackled. "An _immortal_ Emperor of Europe! A perfect leader who will never die! With Napoleon's confidante advising him and supernatural powers to secure his authority! Pax Europa at last!"

Then his face suddenly turned solemn, and he turned to Zero. "Why are you telling me all of this? If you can just command obedience, why haven't you done so to me?"

The man clasped his shoulder tightly, somewhere between friendly and menacing. "Because Geass slaves are only so effective. Of all the men I've followed in the Union, you are one of the few that have my respect both philosophically and meritoriously. I think that you would be perfect to lead my armies, and in the event you ever consider betraying me, you now know that I have the power to destroy you utterly. But your loyalty will see you in my inner circle. Carrot and stick, you see."

It was the opportunity of a lifetime. There were no lies. Obedience would see him commanding the armies of the immortal Emperor of Europe. A New Order, a strong Europe. The legacy of Napoleon seen through.

Thumping to the floor, he knelt before Zero.

"Emperor Zero, please accept my pledge of loyalty and thanks for your faith in me. I will endeavor to prove myself worthy of it."

A gloved hand extended itself, and after hesitantly taking it he was pulled to his feet.

"Please, call me Lelouch."

* * *

Charles grit his teeth as he contemplated the way forward. His son had a Code Geass, a small empire containing most of the world's Sakuradite, the alliance of Europe, and a major grudge against his father.

With Vincent dead, short of capturing C.C and forcing her compliance, the Sword of Akasha would never be completed even if he somehow could capture all of the Thought Elevators before his death. His plans were finished, completely and utterly. The failure tasted bitter in his mouth, but he hadn't gotten as far as he had by wallowing in his failures.

Yet where could he go from here?

Without the Sword of Akasha, he was simply the Emperor of Britannia. It was nothing to scoff at, to be sure, but it was now the entirety of his legacy. The only thing left for him was to ensure its prosperity after his death.

His worthy heirs were very few. Schneizel was the most promising, but he was far too preoccupied with the status quo. No real ambition beyond power and peace. Competent, but tepid.

But when Lelouch inevitably came at Britannia with his Code Geass and the backing of Europe, he doubted even Schneizel would be able to stand against him.

He snorted as the solution finally struck him. It had a certain poetry to it. Lelouch sought to dethrone him? Let him try. He'd throw everything he could at the boy. If the boy persevered and succeeded, he was worthy. If he failed, Schneizel would receive the throne and at least keep Britannia from stagnating after his death.

A trial of fire for the product of his only true love.

Since the day the boy was born with the cold purple eyes of his father, Charles had high hopes for Lelouch. If he managed to inherit his father's mind and Marianne's heart, the boy had the potential to rule the world.

Of course, it would only be fair to officially throw down the gauntlet.

* * *

The Board of Directors had expanded the last few months, Lelouch thought as he took up the head seat. Even C.C had deigned to attend this meeting, and Smilas kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye. The man's idolization of Napoleon had been the perfect thing to play on.

Having changed from his blood-stained general's uniform into a fresh one, Lelouch stood and took up the small glass of brandy before him.

"Ladies, gentlemen, it has been a tumultuous ride from six years ago to today. Mere hours before this meeting, our plans were nearly brought to a halt by an assassin's bullet. But as always, we have pushed through and emerged stronger on the other side. The first stage of our plan has been completed. Neo-Japan is now completely under our control, and we have a seat on the European Central Hemicycle."

He lifted his glass, and everyone else matched him. "A toast."

"To old allies." The glass tilted towards Kewell, Jeremiah, Thomas, Reuben, Mao, C.C, and Sayoko. "And new friends." This time he acknowledged Kallen, Cornelia, Kaguya, Gene, and Rakshata.

"To those lost, and to those who will be lost. To what we've had, and what we will have. And above all, to a ten thousand year New Order!"

Glasses clinked, and the brandy was drank.

"Ave, vivat Imperator!" exclaimed Jeremiah, and there was a second toast to that battlecry.

"I don't really think you need to wish His Majesty long life anymore," Kewell snorted as he composedly swirled his drink.

"Killjoy."

Lelouch laughed and the evening went pleasantly from there. Kewell ducked out early to see to the management of Neo-Japan's assimilation into his rule. In particular he was sending out hostage demands to various Britannian nobles and arranging for the commoners to be shipped back to the Mainland as a 'goodwill gesture'. Ashford would be remaining behind to manage his plants, receiving Neo-Japanese citizenship.

Officially, he had seen the error of his nation and defected to serve under Emperor Zero. Unofficially, Emperor Zero was holding his beloved granddaughter hostage so that he plied his trade for Neo-Japan. And in reality, he and Milly were dating while Reuben was just an outright traitor to Britannia.

As part of their deal, Minister Philippe would be sending over a large number of European educators to get his population back up to speed academic-wise. He was also sending teams to handle the Sakuradite mining and refining, along with working the Ashford factories.

Essentially, the Europeans were going to supplement Neo-Japan's infrastructure until his own citizens were trained enough to take over.

While he spent the next few years playing politics and soldiery in Europe, he'd be leaving the nation's management to Kaguya, with Kewell, Thomas, Reuben, and Rakshata staying behind with her. The rest of the Board would be accompanying him to the Union for the next act of his little performance.

As far as Nunnally was concerned, the Japanese people had liberated themselves. Reuben had cut a deal with them to continue doing business with Europe instead of Britannia, and Lelouch was concluded in it. Thus, he'd be doing business more in Europe and would be away a lot.

He didn't like lying to her, but it was necessary. Euphy had seen her sister slaughter her way across battlefields in the name of the Greater Good. Nunnally had not. She wouldn't be able to stomach what it took to bring her utopia to fruition.

Looking across the table, he saw that a tipsy Gene had finally managed to corner C.C and was sitting enraptured as she regaled him with tales of the Emperor's life from a firsthand perspective. Reuben, Thomas, and Rakshata had retreated to a corner and seemed to be engaged in a lively scientific discussion of some sorts. Oddly, if he was reading it right, Thomas and Rakshata were also flirting with one another. Jeremiah and Cornelia shared a flask, reminiscing on their royal guard days.

That left him alone with Sayoko, Mao, Kallen, and Kaguya.

If he could, he'd have arranged a large scale victory celebration with his more open-minded girls, but officially tonight was Kaguya's wedding night. She had him booked, as it were.

She hung on his arm like a limpet, delighting in the sensation of being married to the Emperor of a liberated Neo-Japan.

He had to admit, he quite liked her. Not only was she beautiful with a delightfully womanly body, but her irrepressibly enthusiastic personality reminded him of Milly—yet it was coupled with a icy-cold and ruthless mind that even he had to respect. She could always get a smile out of him, no matter how dour his mood, and she was a fair hand at chess.

The moment he talked her into a more open relationship, he vowed to introduce her to Milly. The resulting explosion in bed he imagined would be... memorable.

Of course, talking her into said relationship wouldn't be that difficult. When he'd first broached the subject of his spread affections, she had simply declared that as his first, legal wife, she would simply take up position as manager of his 'court ladies'. A born leader in all facets, it seemed she was. Bemused, he'd given her the rundown of the girls, particularly Sayoko and Mao as the most jealous of them.

Mao in particular he'd had to schedule time with repeatedly the last few days to mollify. When she'd learned of Cornelia and Euphy, he was told by the Warden that she had gone to the dungeons and rendered one of the prisoners catatonic.

Fortunately, it had been one of Schneizel's Avalon crewmen rather than one of Cornelia's soldiers, but he'd still been forced to take immediate action.

Scolding, soothing, and makeup sex had followed, and he was relatively convinced that his little kitten had put her claws away once more.

Even now she was occupying his other arm, laying into his side with her eyes closed as he stroked and petted her hair. At least it was better than glaring daggers at Kaguya on his other arm, which was what she'd have done a few weeks ago. It was progress, as far as he was concerned.

Keeping a single woman happy was a challenge for a normal man. Lelouch took it as a point of pride that he was currently managing with seven.

Speaking of...

After his brush with death today at the hands of Suzaku Kururugi, Kaguya and his 'Court Ladies' had been quite distressed on his behalf. He personally didn't really hold a grudge against Kururugi for his actions. After all, he'd kneecapped the man, stolen his fiancee, and killed basically everyone he knew. Revenge was only natural, and Lelouch would have done the same in his shoes.

Unfortunately, the rest of them didn't see it that way. In their view, the man they loved was almost stolen from them in his moment of triumph by an assassin's bullet. They all wanted a crack at the man responsible, and it might be a good... bonding exercise.

Vengeance was cathartic, after all.

* * *

Suzaku groaned on the bare concrete floor of his cell. His throat ached in excruciating pulses, and his right arm felt fractured in about a dozen places. Zero's bodyguard hit like a steam locomotive.

But he'd succeeded. They could torture him. They could leave him to rot. They could kill him. None of it would matter, because he'd won. Their idol was dead.

The sound of multiple approaching persons caused him to stir slightly, but he barely had the strength to move after the beating he'd received before being thrown in here. Outside his door there was a loud buzz, and then the entrance opened.

First in was the same bodyguard who had accosted him at Zero's 'coronation'. She entered like a storm and in seconds was crushing his windpipe with her boot heel as the others entered. To his surprise, a number of them were Britannian or European. He couldn't tell which. A short woman with light purple hair, a woman with long green hair, that redheaded bint from the Guren's theft—Kozuki, he thought it was.

The last three though threw him for a loop. Princess Cornelia he recognized from their intelligence. She was supposed to be missing, but she stood bold as brass alongside Zero's people.

Kaguya entered next. Kaguya. His beloved Kaguya. He tried to speak to her, to tell her that he knew Zero had forced her compliance in his twisted marriage, but the woman's heel on his throat reduced his words to a wet choke.

Then she _giggled_. And Zero entered.

No.

Nononononononononononononono.

 **NO.**

Like a nightmare he couldn't escape from, he was trapped and forced to look on as Zero removed his mask to reveal a Britannian face. He knelt down right next to him, his face like a Balkan stone carving of Satan.

"I must say, Kururugi, your aim leaves something to be desired."

He tried to thrash and spit, but the second he twitched the woman's other heel stomped on his broken arm and white filled his vision as lances of agony shot up his spine.

"As I was saying, permit me to introduce myself: Lelouch vi Britannia, Emperor of Neo-Japan and husband of Kaguya Sumeragi."

His betrayed gaze turned to Kaguya as she smirked and pulled the Britannian prince into a hungry kiss.

This wasn't real. He'd died at the assassination and gone to Hell. That was the only explanation for this. _That was the only explanation for this. **That was the only explanation for this**_ **.**

The devil was tormenting him, and his name was Lelouch vi Britannia.

Eventually the pair broke apart, breathing heavily and Kaguya blushing like a maiden.

"Ladies," the devil instructed, turning to the women, "feel free to indulge yourselves. Just please do leave him alive, both physically and mentally—looking at you Mao. I have plans for him after this that I think you will all enjoy. Otherwise, have fun."

* * *

There was something profoundly satisfying, Lelouch concluded, in seeing a bevy of attractive women enact righteous vengeance on someone in you name. His ladies took poor Suzaku apart.

Sayoko kept him restrained, as with her Meld enhancements there was a good chance that she would lose control of herself and kill him on accident. The others had no such limitations. They kicked and stomped and beat and degraded Kururugi until he was a quivering puddle of gristle on the cell floor. Kaguya emitted a constant barrage of verbal abuse, finally unloading everything she'd wanted to say to her 'darling Suzaku'. He was pretty sure that had hurt the boy the most.

Mao eventually got a turn in, making him relive the memories of his parents' deaths a few times—occasionally playing with the memories to do everything from have Lelouch himself committing the act to having Suzaku kill them both in the name of saving a young Lelouch.

The event had the lively air of a public stoning. A community act of justice that everyone could take part in.

Eventually, they got tired of abusing Suzaku, and he had Mao correct his memories before sending a medical team in to bring him back from the brink of death.

"You're going to live," he explained to the nearly-incoherent assassin. "You very nearly ended my plans to unite the world under my banner. The punishment for this sin is that you will live, Suzaku Kururugi, and you will see it come to fruition. You will watch the news every night as the world at large praises me. You will watch them give me more and more power until I rule the world completely. You will sleep every night knowing that I am fucking the woman you love at her behest."

A single, horror-stricken tear appeared in Suzaku's eye, and Lelouch patted him on his broken jaw.

"And you will do all of this, knowing that you were less than an inch away from stopping me."

* * *

As the girls cleaned themselves up, Lelouch relaxed on his office couch and closed his eyes. He was interrupted as a weight sat on his lap and a series of aggressive kisses worked their way up his neck.

He opened his eyes to see Kaguya straddling him, fiery lust in her eyes.

"I think dominance might be a turn-on for me," she confessed, and he could feel a wetness soak through his lap. "I know that I said I wanted a one on one wedding night, but I think I've changed my mind. For my wedding present, give me something... _memorable_. Please."

His hands wrapped around her waist and he rolled onto the floor so that he was on top of her. As she gasped, his mouth traced her upper curves, trailing through the valley of her generous breasts and coming to a rest on his lips.

"As you say, my Empress."

* * *

With the exception of Mao, who he gave a few minutes of dedicated seeing to with a promise for more the following day, Lelouch took all of the girls back to his manor that night. With Shadows maintaining the perimeter, his house remained unmolested by the Black Knights guarding the Ashford Academy. Even C.C joined in, which was rare. She'd been much more open these last few hours—moreso than she'd been in years.

And then he learned a positively delightful aspect of a Code, regarding their effect on stamina and recovery. It was nearly instantaneous now.

Once he got artificial ones for the girls, he'd have to genuinely watch out for friction burns when they did something like this. There'd be no reason to stop on either side.

As the one sharing her night, Kaguya got to be the initial centerpiece. He made a respectable woman out of her over and over and over and over and over again. Milly, Sayoko, C.C, and Kallen amused themselves with one another while he was preoccupied—Cornelia and Euphy looking on in almost academic curiosity.

They got about thirty seconds into that before Milly got impatient and dragged the reluctant pair in with all of her usual tact.

Once he finished tuning Kaguya, he switched to his next instrument. Euphy's strings he plucked slowly and delicately, despite her desire for something stronger. He deliberately let her frustration build until she snapped and tried to take charge. Then he engaged a violent assault that left her gasping and moaning his name as she plead for forgiveness.

Cornelia once again tried to take charge from the gate, despite that not really being what she wanted. It was just a habit developed from years of having nobody else that could lead in her life. He taught her that those days were over, and like the rest she learned the joys of submission.

Right as he was leading the purple-haired princess to a glorious climax, Kallen and Milly attempted a sneak attack from behind. Breasts, hands, and tongues all attempted to challenge his control, but he persevered long enough to finish Cornelia off.

Realizing that their ambush had failed, the two wayward girls tried to escape, but he did not let their transgression go unpunished. They should have known better.

He alternated between them both, pinning them beneath him and holding them on the brink until they were begging for a release that he would not give. Instead, he pulled back and instructed them to finish one another off. Last to climax would get his cock. Milly pounced on her redheaded co-conspirator in a flash, shoving her tongue down her throat and giving him a saucy wink as she put on a show.

With a snap of his fingers Sayoko crawled to him and began lavishing him with her tongue as he watched Kallen recover from the initial attack and fight back with Milly. The duel was hard-fought and climactic, but eventually Kallen's strength and ferocity overpowered her more civic counterpart—leaving her a quivering mess.

On his orders, Sayoko pulled back and expertly massaged Kallen's breasts as a reward while he pounded her into submission.

Her teeth bit his neck hard enough to draw blood as she came, but now that kind of damage was gone in seconds.

Without even bothering to warn her, he switched his attentions to his loyal assassin and began a three-pronged assault on her mouth, breasts, and folds. She crumbled like a house of cards, her soft flesh twitching and spasming involuntarily under the rough technique.

Once she was finished, it was C.C's turn. His experience with the immortal was... _unique_. His usual dominance techniques didn't really work, as she was all but immune to pain and had seen every intimidation technique under the sun. She was completely jaded to it. Instead he treated her like Mao and gave her a slower, more romantic time that she responded well to—and he filed it away for future reference.

Having run the gambit, he returned to the guest of honor. Kaguya had finally recovered, and now that she was properly tuned he called on the entire orchestra. Flesh blurred, bodies entertwined, electric fire danced between them.

He gave her a night to remember.

* * *

Lelouch was awoken in the night by the vibration of his private cellphone. He was tempted to ignore it, but nobody who had that number would call him at this hour for something unimportant.

He slowly worked himself from the grips of the girls and got out of bed. Dressed only in his boxers, he snatched his phone from the dresser—stepping from the room to avoid waking up his bedmates. Sighing, his finger tapped the answer button.

" _Your Majesty, we have a problem,_ " came Kewell's voice, and the edge of fright snapped Lelouch from his sleepy state.

"What is it?"

" _I have Emperor Charles on the other line. He wants to talk with you._ "

Lelouch's blood went cold. Frigid. "With Zero?"

" _With his son, Lelouch vi Britannia._ "

Fuck. Fuck!

"Get _everything_ on full alert, then put him through."

" _Yes, Your Majesty._ "

There were a few minutes on hold as Kewell activated every defensive measure they had on offer—preparing for everything from a covert attack to a full-on invasion, then there was a click and the sound of an old man's breathing filled the line.

" _My son,_ " came a familiar but hated voice. A voice that Lelouch hadn't heard on anything but television for the last nine years. A voice that Lelouch had vowed to destroy.

He didn't respond, and the voice chuckled.

 _"I thought that you might pull the silent treatment. Might I ask who was it that I had to deal with before? Count Soresi, it sounded like, but I confess that its been many years since I last spoke with the man._ "

Lelouch closed his eyes, desperately fighting to maintain his self control. "What do you want?"

" _To speak with my son, after so many years._ "

"I stopped being your son the moment you disposed of my mother like a sacrificial pawn to spark off your war. I stopped being your son the moment Nunnally cried when she learned of what a cruel, callous bastard you really are under the distant, imperial guise. So don't you _dare_ come to me under some facade of reconciliation or paternal warmth. Say your piece and be done, Charles."

The voice turned colder, and more serious. " _Marianne's death was tragic but necessary, Lelouch, and don't you ever insinuate that I didn't love her. Of all my wives, she was the only one I married for love. And whatever you might think, you are my son Lelouch. You have always been, and no matter what happens you will always be my son."_

"Did you truly call me at such an hour to try and browbeat me into... what, surrender?"

Charles laughed uproariously. " _Surrender? Certainly not. I'd never let you surrender, and you'd never accept it. I know that you must hate me. I hold no grudges over that, for I have committed a great offense against you. I know that you have taken over Area 11 and joined the Europeans so that you might bring me down, and I welcome it my son. My other children have been such disappointments, but not you Lelouch. Never you._ "

The words troubled Lelouch more than he'd care to admit. The idea that Emperor Charles _favored him_ for his actions.

No. It was a trick. A gambit designed to throw him off his game.

" _You want my throne, Lelouch, my empire? Come and take them. You have Geass, I have the world's mightiest superpower. Destroy me and claim your birthright. Destroy me and avenge your mother. Know that I will fight you with every ounce of my strength, and should you survive the trial of my fire, the world will be yours._ "

Another, almost jovial laugh came over the phone before the line went dead.

" _May the best Emperor win._ "


	18. Act 2: An Introductory Guide to Europe

**Hello, readers. Since I'm going to be introducing essentially an OC superpower in this next act, I figured that I should provide a reference chapter of sorts to provide background for the next arc. I'm going to try bringing these facts across during the story, but I'm not an expert writer and won't be able to weave all of the pertinent bits in. Thus, I'm giving you guys this to remind yourselves of what everyone's talking about. I'll also likely be updating this periodically as I come up with more EU background and as events unfold.**

 **An Introductory Guide to Europe**

* * *

 **The History of the EU**

 **Founding:** The European Union, more formally known as _Europa United_ , was formed on December 25, 1815, Christmas Day. After Emperor Napoleon's victory over the British at the Battle of Waterloo previously that year—sending the British government into exile to the New World, Napoleon conquered the British Isles and shattered the combined power of the Concert of Europe. Knowing that a protracted war to conquer Europe would take most of his lifetime, Napoleon sat down with the remaining powers and worked out the **Treaty of Concert** , which served as the founding document and constitution of the European Union.

 **Treaty of Concert:** The Treaty of Concert was a cooperative pact signed between France, Naples, Prussia, Austria, Russia, Hanover, Nassau, Brunswick, Sweden, the Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, Sardinia, Sicily, Tuscany, and Switzerland. It served as a cooperative non-aggression agreement, in addition to a pledge of military unity in the event of a war. It was later amended under Napoleon to include the creation of a united ruling body known as the **Central Hemicycle** —consisting of a single representative from each founding nation. They democratically worked out problems between themselves, with each nation pledging to uphold and enforce the rulings of the body. Realizing the possibility for a united European superpower, Napoleon pushed forward the establishment of a secondary body, the **Outer Hemicycle**. It consisted of representatives from the smaller nations that hadn't joined in the original Concert of Europe and weren't included in the treaty. They were offered places in the Outer Hemicycle, where they would democratically apportion out five collective votes that would be added to any proposition the Central Hemicycle voted on.

 **The Democratic Revolution:** In 1830, French Emperor Napoleon was assassinated by Democratic revolutionaries. Without his leadership, the French government fell and the revolutionaries took power once more. Due to the wording of the Treaty of Concert, the other European powers were unable to militarily intervene in this. Across Europe, other democratic revolutionaries took this as their sign and rose up against their governments. Without a Concert of Europe-style alliance to help one another fight these revolutionaries, the individual nations were forced to live or die on their own merits. Some fell, others were strengthened by the pruning of dangerous liberals. Thus, the modern EU consists of a combination of republics, democracies, and empires.

 **The War of Unification:** In 1914, the Kingdom of Prussia faced a dilemma when rising Germanic Nationalism led to a call for a united German Empire. Politically, the Germanic nations had formed a collective voting group in the Hemicycle, and they faced the problem that uniting into a single empire would reduce their votes from four to one. They attempted to push forward legislation that would remedy this issue, but the other nations, realizing the disruption in power that would occur if Central Hemicycle members were permitted to legally unite while maintaining their votes, voted against and forbade it. One state, one vote was the Central Hemicycle's rule.

Citing a deliberate ignoring of the Treaty of Concert, which permitted sovereign member states to freely conduct diplomacy among themselves without the Hemicycle's interference, Prussia, Hanover, Nassau, and Brunswick declared war against any nation that denied them the right to unify without politically crippling themselves. They were joined by their long-standing allies Austria and Sweden. Naples, Sardinia, Sicily, and Tuscany joined them from a similar desire for united Italy. Russia was later persuaded to their cause by promises from the Axis powers to introduce some measure of population-based voting power upon their victory.

A long and bloody war was fought through Europe, before the Allied Powers finally relented and permitted the unification of Germany and Italy with their votes intact in the **Compromise of 1919**. Russia did not receive their desired population-based voting, leaving the reclusive Empire with a significant grudge against the Hemicycle and EU as a whole that continues to this day.

* * *

 **Colonial Africa**

 **Napoleonic Division:** Under Emperor Napoleon, the resource-rich African continent was divided amongst the most powerful European nations. A large amount of negotiation and exchange has occurred since then that changed the owners of the ten Administrative Districts, but the established borders remained the same. Most of modern Africa is divided between the French and Germans, with the Italians, Spanish, and Belgians holding a single District each. Recognizing the problems that greedy, short-sighted colonial powers would bring about in the continent, Napoleon pushed forward a great deal of legislation limiting the damage brought about by them. But despite these attempts, a large amount of resentment festered between the native population and their relatively-benign but occasionally callous European overseers.

 **Administrative Zones:** The African Administrative Districts are built from the following real world African nations...

Spanish North Africa: Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya

French West Africa: Western Sahara, Mauritania, Mali, Senegal, Gambia, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Cote D'ivoire, Burkina Faso, Ghana, Togo, Benin

French Equatorial Africa: Niger, Chad, Central African Republic

French East Africa: Egypt, Sudan, South Sudan, Uganda, Kenya

German West Africa: Nigeria, Cameroon, Equatorial Guinea, Congo, Gabon

The Belgian Congo: The Democratic Republic of the Congo

Italian East Africa: Eritrea, Ethiopia, Djibouti, Somalia

German South Africa: Angola, Namibia

French South Africa: Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, South Africa, Swaziland, Lesotho

German East Africa: Rwanda, Burundi, Tanzania, Malawi, Mozambique, Madagascar

 **Modern Africa:** In 1985, rising industry and population in the peaceful European Union brought about a great food crisis. European crops couldn't keep up with the exploding population, and African agriculture was sporadic due to the harsh climate in most of the continent's regions. The famine grew worse and worse until 1998, when French scientists discovered a new method of terraforming that would allow them to transform Africa's harshest desert and scrublands into rich, fertile farmland. The terraforming took just four years, and nowadays Africa has a well-deserved reputation as the world's breadbasket. Its prosperous farms feed Africa, Europe, and still have plenty leftover that is exported and sold to China. Europe is once again facing famine however with the rise of the Britannian-backed **FPA**.

 **The Free Peoples of Africa:** With the spark of the **Atlantic** **War** in 2020, Prime Minister Schneizel el Britannia realized that he could cripple the EU with nary a fight by preying on its own subjects. He utilized Britannia's intelligence networks to foster resentment among the native African population and then secretly offered them Britannian backing in a war for their own liberation.

With his strategic advice and equipment, over the course of six years they turned themselves into a fearsome army and struck back at the colonial population. They rose up like a sudden tide in most major population centers, brutally slaughtering any European they could get their hands on in the **Crimson Night**. Once they had their footholds established, they used the Knightmares provided to them and massacred the unprepared Colonial militaries.

As of 2026, they have complete control of Spanish North Africa, French West Africa, French Equatorial Africa, French East Africa, German West Africa, Italian East Africa, and the Belgian Congo. German South Africa, German East Africa, and French South Africa are barely holding their ground in their remaining territories, and there is constant bloody fighting along the border. The FPA's control of the most prosperous, crop-producing regions of Africa has once again brought about devastating food shortages in the EU, along with an accompanying economic crisis from the loss of lucrative mines and lumber, and civil unrest from the starvation and food lines.

The FPA are disorganized and fractured, but united by a common hatred of Europeans and formerly by the guidance of Schneizel el Britannia. Their battle tactics are lightning-fast and ferocious, with a zealous persistence that usually wears down the Colonial defenders. When on the defensive, they hide themselves among their own civilian populations and conduct brutal guerrilla attacks with little regard for rules of military conduct. Europeans in territories they occupy have quickly learned to flee as fast as possible, as they have initiated the practice of placing any 'Oppressor' they encounter into nightmarish death camps.

* * *

 **Modern Europe**

 **The Atlantic War:** In 2016, formerly tense but peaceful Britannian/EU relations were drastically changed by the sudden and unexpected annexation of the British Isles by Britannian forces. Despite the protests of Pax Romanists, then-Prime Minister Caron tentatively acknowledged Britannia's claims to their former homeland. This ensured peace for the remainder of his term, but the EU realized that war was inevitable—especially when Britannian Empress Marianne vi Britannia was assassinated by supposed EU sympathizers as retribution for Britannia's annexation.

In 2019, Britannia annexed Area 11, which had previously been the primary provider of Sakuradite to both Britannia and the EU. Various EU military figures announced this seizure of strategic assets to be the first step in an inevitable war, and were proven right when in 2020 Britannia formally declared war against the EU.

The war began with Prime Minister Schneizel crippling the EU's democratic government by forming and leading the African FPA to cut off the EU's food supply and raw materials. Europe's disunity precluded them from forming an unified offensive force, and thus they settled for playing the defensive in a series of mutual-defense arrangements with their respective militaries.

In 2026, Britannian forces under the leadership of Princess Cornelia le Britannia led the first proper invasion of the EU when she landed in Spain. Her trademark blitzkrieg assaults shattered the feeble Spanish defenders and had conquered almost half the nation before she was recalled to put down unrest in Area 11. Her second-in-command General Andreas Darlton kept up the push, but a great deal of momentum was lost and the French forces managed to hold him at the border until **Emperor Zero** liberated his country and established **Neo-Japan** —crippling the Britannian war machine. As part of a formerly-secret agreement, in exchange for this service Prime Minister Philippe gave him military aid and inclusion into the EU as a member of the Central Hemicycle—the first member added since its formation.

With the Britannian military empty of fuel but still strong, Prime Ministers Schneizel and Philippe sat down and signed the **Paris Accord** , agreeing to a six-year ceasefire between their respective superpowers and the renouncement of Britannia's claim to Area 11.

 **European Politics:** The Central and Outer Hemicycles are dominated by two primary political parties.

The **Vox Populi** are a liberal, democratic party generally favored by the academic, wealthy, and middle-class demographics. Their strongest support bases are in the Allied Powers from the War of Unification, with the exceptions of Turkey, Poland, Norway, Finland, Ukraine and recently Spain. They hold the majority of power in the EU, and Minister Philippe is among their members. Their platform consists of pro-democratic, anti-military, and pro-labor stances, along with adherence to the independence of the EU's individual states. They've generally enjoyed the support of the 'common Joe', but with the famine and recent direct invasion of Spain by Britannian forces, that has been greatly lost. Minister Philippe still maintains popularity by achieving a bloodless victory via his backing of Emperor Zero, but the party as a whole has lost an immense amount of face.

The **Pax Romana** are a conservative, republican/monarchical party generally favored by the military, nobility, and lower-class demographics. Their strongest support bases are in the Axis Powers from the War of Unification, with the exception of Russia, and are primarily monarchies. Despite usually holding half of the Hemicycle votes, they are often divided over minor issues and weaken themselves through infighting. Their platform consists of pro-republican, pro-military, and anti-Britannian stances, along with pushes to bring more centralized power to the EU. It was by their influence during the 1950's that they established the office of Prime Minister, finally bringing a central head to the EU. They idealize the Roman Empire and its ability to unite its people to the common cause of prosperity through strength. With the Atlantic War, they've enjoyed an upswell in support among the common people.

 **Current Hemicycle Allegiances (2026)**

 **Vox Populi:** France, the Netherlands, Portugal, Switzerland, and the majority of the Outer Hemicycle

Total: Nine votes

 **Pax Romana:** Germany, Italy, Sweden, Austria, Spain, and a minority of the Outer Hemicycle

Total: Eleven votes

 **Independent:** Russia

Total: One vote


	19. Chapter 1: Beachhead

**Act 2**

 _Ave Imperator_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Beachhead**

 _"The Body recognizes Monsieur Rutte, representative of the Netherlands."_

 _"The proposition of the good General Smilas and the Pax Romana at large is both laughably implausible and against everything that this august body stands for. The individual sovereignty of European nations has been our core tenant since the original signing of the Treaty of Concert. The establishment of a singular 'European Military' would both strip us of that individualism and serve as provocation to the Britannians."_

 _"The Body recognizes Lord Garcia, representative of Spain."_

 _"Provoke the Britannians? The Britannians are already provoked! They've been 'provoked' for nine years now! The honorable members of this body will remember that King Ferdinand and the Spanish government have long been sympathetic to the Vox Populi, but they go too far with this talk of pacification! The barbarians are at the gates! We need a general, not an ambassador!"_

 _"The Body recognizes Emperor Zero, sovereign of the Neo-Japanese Empire."_

 _"As a new member to this august body, I feel that I can express myself without party bias. Fellow representatives, I grew up under Britannian rule, thus I can confirm the honorable Lord Garcia's statement that the Britannians will not be pacified in this case, nor should they. Their ideology is one of expansion and supremacy. They will not be appeased, regardless of what Minister Schneizel's silver tongue might lead you to believe. Our only choices are to pull together and fight, or be destroyed utterly. A coalition Union Military is our only hope for survival."_

 _"The Body recognizes Lord Nicholas, representative of the Russian Empire."_

 _"Tsar Alexander expresses his support for Emperor Zero's words. We motion that the following proposition be put to vote: this Body shall establish a singular Union Military, collectively funded, and marshaled by the honorable General Gene Smilas."_

 _"All in favor of bringing the matter as proposed to vote?"_

 _"Thirteen votes in favor, nine opposed. The matter is brought to vote: shall this Body establish a singular Union Military, collectively funded and overseen by the honorable General Gene Smilas."_

 _"Once again, thirteen in favor, nine opposed. The motion carries."_

—[ _Partial transcript of November 6, 2026's meeting of the European Union's Hemicyle. Available for public inspection courtesy of the Imperial Records Office._ ]

* * *

[ _August 1, 2028_ ]

[ _One Year, Nine Months Later_ ]

* * *

The Strait of Gibraltar was at points narrow enough that the opposing shores could spy on one another with only binoculars. A thin fog blanketed the sea between them, occasionally parting to reveal the flotsam of devastated smuggling ships that had tried to run the gap.

Lelouch gazed upon it, his hands clasped behind his back as stood on the bridge of the _Damocles._ With its position a mere thirty kilometers from mainland Europe, accompanied by its enormous shipping ports, the Spanish-North-African city of Tangiers stood as the obvious beachhead for a counter-invasion of the territory held by the so-called 'Free Peoples of Africa'.

He knew this, and the FPA knew this.

Thus, the beaches and waterfronts of the city before him had been almost excessively networked with concrete bunkers, tank traps, minefields, heavy weapon emplacements, and defensive earthworks. As a matter of fact, the entire coast of the Tingitana Peninsula had been. The FPA's Spanish-North-Africa Division, the 'Black Stars', were putting their commandeered terraforming equipment and Britannian-supplied munitions to very good use, he was forced to admit. Almost better than he would have done in their shoes.

Combined with the intelligence confirming that they had an entire armored division assigned to defending the peninsula from invasion, objective military wisdom indicated that attempting to land on that beach would be costly even for the most elite of modern militaries.

But then, he wasn't landing on the beach.

His Emperor-Class airborne carrier crested over the mountains of southern Spain and into the strait, accompanied by the rest of the airfleet: three additional Oberon-Class airborne carriers, four Cutlass-Class frigates, four Armageddon-Class destroyers, and sixteen Valkyrie-Class land deployment ships. Along with the trailing support and logistics crafts, of course.

Two long years it had taken to stand here. Three full months to push the establishment of a Union Military through the European Hemicycle with the aid of his European allies, then just over twenty-one to actually build and train the damned thing once Gene named him Grand Marshal of it for his 'proven and recent military prowess'.

But it was worth it. Nine years ago Emperor Charles had unleashed his newest super-weapon upon a clueless foe. Now it was his turn.

They were just under twenty kilometers out when the muffled echo of artillery fire began sounding from the distant shore, and around ten seconds later the bridge window was briefly illuminated by the red glare of Rakshata's Radiant Luminous—a streamlined hybrid of the Guren's trademark weapon and Lloyd Asplund's ingenious shield concept—as it prematurely detonated the shells.

Where the otherwise-ingenious man had mainly went wrong was in making it an active defense system for his machines. That was far too much of a power draw, as the Avalon had demonstrated. Instead, Rakshata's new designs were tied to his ships' sensors. When an incoming projectile was detected, the ship's computers would calculate its trajectory and a tiny section of the shield would flicker on just long enough to intercept it, then switch off.

Crimson specks continued to light up the bridge as his airfleet pressed forward.

The detonation of a particularly enormous shell—even at range—caused the bridge of the _Damocles_ to vibrate minutely. Under his mask a frown stretched across Lelouch's face. While the main fleet could take that kind of bombardment for days if necessary, the support craft were more vulnerable to such heavy ordinance.

"Give the Destroyers permission to engage with their long-range weaponry. Target the largest emplacements first," he instructed Cornelia.

His equally-disguised and lovely second-in-command nodded her approval and agreement before stepping towards the center of the bridge. Officers and aides cleared her a path to disperse the order over its primary Holographic Command Terminal.

Sixteen kilometers out, and the Armageddons began firing off their Gauss railguns with devastating accuracy. Tiny pinpricks of orange and pink lit up in the distance as the projectiles detonated ammunition and fuel stores. Soon the largest guns fell silent and the airfleet advanced without further challenge as the FPA scrambled to find some way of answering the surprise Blitzkrieg.

Keeping an eye on the bridge's monitors, Lelouch counted down the distance from their enemy. Fifteen kilometers. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven.

Ten. As they entered optimal range for their primary weapons, fire once again picked up from the FPA. Unfortunately... they were now within _his_ reach too.

His masked gaze titled slightly, and to the crewman on his left's credit he didn't freeze at suddenly finding himself in his Emperor's sights.

"Gunner, do you see those FPA fortifications?" he asked, casually indicating to two stretches of coast about half a klick East and West of the Tangiers harbors. Those ports were the primary strategic resource in the city, so he could not afford to damage them by accident. Not to mention there was the civilian populace to skirt. The only upside was that Sayoko's Frumentarii had gotten in touch with a few of said locals and contracted their aid.

The Neo-Japanese man gulped, then nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Lelouch smiled. "I don't want to," he said simply, before turning back.

"...Understood, Your Majesty," came the response after a lengthy pause.

Even through layers upon layers of reinforced steel alloy and numerous decks, the floor beneath his feet hummed as the Sword powered up—and despite himself Lelouch tensed in anticipation. He'd seen the weapon tested before, but never on live targets.

The hum reached a crescendo and on some unseen cue, fired.

Magnificent.

A crimson beam the diameter of a double-decker bus shot out from the prow of his ship, slicing through the designated concrete defenses like foam. Cooked-off munitions, minefields, and other combustibles detonated left and right as the Sword's pure, condensed energy cut a swathe through the bulwarks. By the time it finally flickered off, two strips of the shore nearly a mile across on each side had been turned to _glass_ , and molten concrete poured across them like lava.

Following his cue, the destroyers began firing on the beaches. Though more conventional, their railguns and cluster-missiles were no less deadly.

By the time they were within two kilometers, all opposition but from the ports themselves had gone silent. Those guns kept firing, safe in the knowledge that their positions were too valuable to be fired upon.

Smoke billowed up from the devastated coastlines in blinding clouds, intermittently obfuscating visibility from the air. The two sections would make good staging points for his airtroopers to flank the city from, but they would need to be completely secure prior to that or his troops would be flanked themselves. The Vox Populi were already casting aspersions against his qualifications in the Hemicycle and the papers. This first operation needed to go perfectly if he was to silence them.

Finally ripping his gaze away from the blazing horizon, he strolled back to the HCT and met Cornelia's masked gaze.

"Deploy the Airborne."

* * *

As the alert sounded, Corporal Ivan snapped up with the rest of his squad and immediately set about preparing himself for landing. Their quarters on the _Sigrún_ LDS were tight, but provided ample room to store their equipment—made easily accessible for rapid deployment.

To be completely honest, when he'd signed on to the Union Military he'd expected assignment to general infantry. He'd had no real skills or intelligence, only a larger-than-average build and apparently decent marksmanship. So when his instructors pulled him aside a month into training and offered him a place in the newly-formed elite Airborne Corps, he'd leapt at it.

And he did not regret it. General Smilas or Emperor Zero or whoever was pulling the strings for the Airborne, they meant serious business.

One of the first things they'd done once he'd signed some waivers and other paperwork was send him to a 'special doctor' who gave him an injection of what they called 'Achilles Serum'.

By God did it live up to the name.

The specific biological workings were way over his head, but when paired with a specialized diet, exercise, and medication regime over about nine months, the serum vastly increased muscular and skeletal growth—along with heightening reflexes, pain tolerance, and adrenal stimulation.

Of course, the process had still been massively uncomfortable. Going from 5'11", 90 kilos to 6'6", 120 kilos over the course of nine months brought about what he and the other men had taken to calling the 'Growing Pains'. They had not been pleasant by any means, and he'd never wish to repeat the experience.

But the end results...

'Supersoldiers' was now the only term to describe what he and the Airborne had become, especially when combined with all the other toys and tech they'd been provided with in preparation for this war.

He finished donning his EXO-suit, grinning as it powered up and fitted itself around him. With a final click the helmet enclosed automatically around his head—sealing itself and linking up to the air filtration system. The FPA had taken to usage of chemical weaponry, so their benefactor had provided their elite troopers with completely chem-proofed armor. But that wasn't all it did.

Their titular exoskeletons boosted their users' already-enhanced strength and agility by another order of magnitude while providing heavy protection, and specialist variants had even _more_ goodies.

He clapped a magazine into his rifle and checked that his tac-vest was secure. Due to their deployment tactics, he and the other Airborne didn't need to carry much equipment on them personally. The aim was to keep them lightweight and mobile.

His gear readied, he filed through the airship's corridors along with hundreds of his fellows. At the designated doorway he broke off into the small hangar containing their platoon's transports—three Chariot-Class Landing-Escort Vehicles. _Marie_ , its French operators had dubbed his squad's.

They bore the basic shape of an elongated IFV, with the exception of the ring around the center, where the primary weapons were located to be rotated downwards once in flight, and the small SAM turret on its rear above the door for close-range AA.

Sergeant Zimmer was already geared and in place, but then again when wasn't he?

Less than a minute later Yuri, Hans, Hugo, and Bernard arrived to Zimmer's displeased glare. They only escaped a smoking thanks to their brother squad showing up a few seconds behind.

Together, the two squads piled into the cramped Chariot. L-squad's Sergeant Rascovich rapped the driver compartment, and seconds later there was a hum of LIFT engines as the machine took to the air. The other two Chariots in the hangar rising as well—the room depressurized and the wide doors opened to permit the vehicles egress into the sky above the battlefield.

* * *

Like hornets flying forth to defend their hive, the view from the _Damocles_ was filled by the sight of Chariots pouring from their Valkyrie motherships. Sixteen in total, each outfitted with a mechanized airtrooper regiment, and a dedicated armored regiment.

Constructing this fleet and outfitting the Airborne had been the work of Euros by the trillions and hours by the thousands. The Hemicycle had footed the bill for the Army, Navy, and Airforces, but as an unproven corps Lelouch had largely been forced to pay for the Airborne by himself. It didn't matter. He knew that they would prove their worth.

Combining Reuben's squirreled-away tech with Rakshata's brains, his new Sakuradite-laden coffers, and an indirect writ from the Hemicycle through Gene to establish a singular European Armed Forces had been a positively divine match. The three primary forces he'd established along traditional lines—designed to be the slow, implacable wall that would secure his captured territory and mop up the stragglers in his wake—but it would be the Airborne that would win this war.

From the moment Fulcrum had discovered the secrets of thrustless lift and power-shielding, a nearly prophetic vision had enamored him. A wonderful vision.

A vision of an untouchable army in the sky.

An army free of supply lines, terrain, or weather. An army that never had to make camp, an army that could rain fire down on an enemy with impunity before deploying infantry, armor, and KMFs to clear the area.

A hammer to obliterate any significant enemy resistance point, with an enormous and steady war machine marching behind them to finish the rest. His ideal military.

Despite the notion that it was bad luck, he permitted himself a smirk beneath his mask. While this initial landing might incur a few losses, the FPA were about to make the Japanese government's pitiful defense against Britannia's Knightmares look like the Battle of Thermopylae.

Eight regiments of airtroopers poured into the new gaping holes in the city's flanks—keeping eight airtrooper and sixteen armored regiments in reserve just in case the enemy had any tide-turning surprises on hand. While the Tangiers Resistance had provided them all the strategic intelligence they had to offer, little of it was verifiable due to the heavy defenses surrounding the city.

His eyes, however were on the two regiments that kept a straight course for the pair of interlinked main ports. That was going to be the hardest assault of the air landings, as the defenses were still completely intact. Any projectile larger than a tank shell fired at them risked setting off a chain reaction that would damage the harbors.

Those bunkers would have to be taken the old-fashioned way. Relatively, anyway.

Looking past the Airborne, his gaze set itself on the backdrop to all this slaughter.

Despite the knowledge of its imminent liberation, he felt a pang of pity for Tangiers itself. The sprawling city had less than a decade ago been the shining City of the Future—the largest port in all of Africa. Its once gleaming towers were now dirtied with disrepair, and the shores that had once provided a famously beautiful waterfront were now networked with functional but ugly concrete bunker networks dug into the sandbanks and hillsides. A city of art, wealth, and culture turned into a military instillation.

Well, he was going to fix that.

As the co-founder of the branch, Cornelia joined him in prideful satisfaction as they watched the Airborne Chariots group by companies of nine LEVs and begin deploying on the devastated shorelines.

But his eyes were on the harbors.

* * *

It was the lack of information that made the fly-in most stressful, in Ivan's opinion. The Chariot's firing ports were all shut to protect from flak shrapnel, so the soldiers in its rear were blind to the situation outside.

A minor shock rattled the vehicle in response to a close range detonation, and the light in the troop compartment flicked yellow.

"Alright men!" barked Zimmer in French as he crouched in preparation. "We've drilled this a hundred times! Priority is to clear the Chariot! Yuri first, then alternate by seat! Keep your heads low and in cover until everyone's out! Follow your training and you'll do just fine. Then we kick Abdul's ass! One Sin?"

"Defeat!" Ivan and the others shouted the Airborne's creed.

The compartment shook once more as the Chariot fired four shots from its underbelly autocannon.

"One Grace?" Rascovich demanded in the same tone as the vehicle halted and pulled a one-eighty. The 'Sergeant Voice' must have been something they taught NCOs when the other enlisted men weren't looking.

"Victory!"

With a hydraulic hiss the rear door unsealed and Yuri burst forth with his rifle raised. The back of their vehicle was butted up against the blackened hole it had just blown in the third story of the quad-tiered bunker that was their target.

It was now a speed game. Typically, ground deployment was one of the few times when their Chariot couldn't cover them with its belly-mounted Autocannon-HMG turret as was its purpose. It slid up on the rail to above the craft when touched-down so that it was out of the way, but there was no ammo feed up there. This time however, they needed to clear the vehicle so that it didn't remain an immobile target for the bunker's intact heavy cannons.

As practiced at Camp Bonaparte, they and L-squad rapidly alternated members out of the Chariot by placement near the door, until finally he hopped out followed by Rascovich, then Zimmer.

The room they'd breached was formerly a howitzer nest. He was unsure how many FPA soldiers had been manning it, considering the autocannon had reduced them to a red paste smearing the walls.

Bile instinctively welled up in his throat, but he bit it back—shaking his head and clearing unnecessary thoughts from it. In combat a soldier could not afford empathy. The second you hesitated to kill a man who wanted to kill you, would be the moment he did.

' _Aim with the eye. Shoot with the mind. Kill with a hardened heart._ '

He crouched down with the rest of K-squad behind an interior concrete wall. Once the rest of their platoon arrived, their priority would be to secure the heavy weaponry overlooking the harbors before they could be used to scuttle the docks and deny them to the naval landing troops. They'd handle the interior of the port bunkers while the Chariots would pick off the exterior weapons at close range.

The second its occupants were clear, their Chariot pushed off an lifted back into the air. Its turret rotated along its ring until it reached the bottom, before it halted and locked into place.

A whir sounded as the weapon's barrel swiveled down towards the rooftop cannons, and open fired.

Ivan watched out the hole in the wall with grim elation as the steady mechanical pounding of the cannon resulted in showers of scrapped metal raining down past his view. Needing to clear space for the remainder of the platoon, Sergeants Zimmer and Rascovich order them further into the bunker.

Steeling himself, Ivan peeked the next corner, relying on his EXO to soak any bullets he caught for such an act. Fortunately, the room he peered into seemed to be barracks for the men manning the emplacements on this floor. Considering the entire complex was under direct invasion it came as no surprise that it was empty.

The whoosh of LIFT engines behind him heralded the arrival of _Sofia_ as she swooped in next, unloading squads M and N into the hole made by _Marie_.

He glanced back just in time to see _Sofia_ pull forwards to turn around, before a pair of rockets flew at her from somewhere else on their floor of the bunker. Despite knowing what would happen, Ivan winced for half a second before two small panels of glowing light appeared on the LEV and intercepted the munitions less than two inches away from impact.

Between the LIFT and AEGIS systems, Chariot LEVs were mean mothers to deal with, even when your defenses weren't half-exploded and on fire.

Return barrages from _Sofia_ made the FPA regret that decision before _Anastasia_ finally decided to make an appearance and drop in their platoon's heavy EXOs. Four JUMP units, four GUARD units, and most importantly for this situation: four PYRO units.

While under typical circumstances the PYR-EXO units were equipped for demolition and anti-armor work when KMF support was unavailable, in a close-quarters urban fight like this they brought out the flamethrowers.

Their NCOs performed a silent headcount, before 'comming their commander to confirm their position.

Over his helmet's integrated HUD, Lt. Sokolov's terse voice began issuing orders from his command seat aboard the _Sigrún._

 _"Mancini, Acker, Villa, Kuznet, cover the PYROs as they advance. We got a platoon on each floor, so watch your fire near stairways. I want every gun in the West harbor silent by the time His Majesty touches down."_

The platoon's six NCOs all chimed back a confirmation of the orders, before the four designated GUARD units in their massive GRD-EXOs lifted the thick ballistic shields and deployed the large, autonomous MMGs mounted on their shoulders. Once secured, they began a slow and synchronous advance through the defensive bunker.

In accordance with their drilled bunker-clearing tactics, the GUARDs would attract fire to identify enemy locations, then pull back for the PYROs to burn them out. General troopers would cover the rear and provide necessary fire support while the JUMPs would provide overwatch in any open environments they crossed through.

As Emperor Zero apparently preferred, they were tactics with no counters in existing military doctrine, meaning that it would take a good while for the FPA to adapt.

That was the advantage of employing so much new tech all at once, despite the time it had taken to build the equipment and train the Airborne in its use.

The FPA would catch on eventually, but the idea was that since the FPA were so factional and disorganized, the Airborne would blitz through their individual territories so quickly that their loosely-connected divisions wouldn't have time to adapt by themselves before their destruction.

Of course, that strategy meant no quarter to retreating FPA soldiers or officers who might spread any discovered counter-techniques, which frankly Ivan was fine with.

In his mind, the notion of fighting for the betterment of your countrymen, even at the expense of others, was an acceptable one—especially given Russia's _strained_ relations with the remainder of the EU—but the African people were no better off today than they'd been six years ago. In fact, if the reports from the news and their commanders' briefings were to be believed, many regions were in fact _worse_. Hence the Tangiers Resistance that the Frumentarii had apparently been coordinating with.

The scattered natives who'd 'Eurofied' over the last few centuries hadn't taken kindly to the incompetent and Britannian-led rabble that were now driving once-prosperous regions into the dirt. Some had even taken up arms against those they viewed as essentially foreign sockpuppets.

Under the instructions and direction of the Union Military's Intelligence Service, said resistance fighters had carried out a number of sabotage operations against the FPA base containing their armored division to keep it locked down while they secured a foothold. A grunt like him didn't know the details of their cooperation, but he knew better than to rely on civilians for something like that. Fortunately, so it seemed did Emperor Zero as he still had _their_ armor in reserve as well.

Their GUARDs pushed through the barracks with the PYROs at their backs. Ivan shoulder his AA-HCR, a heavy hitting carbine produced by the Neo-Japanese Ashford Arms. Its weighty design would have made it too cumbersome for average soldiers to wield effectively, but between Achilles serum and the EXO suits, that was hardly a problem for the Airborne.

And the rifle put all that extra weight to good use. A single shot to the chest could drop a grown man, even through ballistic plate. Not to mention, its configurable and rugged design meant that it could be kitted out for any situation without sacrificing efficiency or reliability.

At the moment, he and the rest of his platoon had theirs shortened into SMG-like configurations for their current CQC work, but in less than a minute they could swap on a longer barrel and rigid stock to make it a mid-long range rifle.

Kuznek pushed through a door along the left of the barracks and caught a hail of LMG fire for his trouble. His shield met the brunt of it, and the few stray rounds that made it past simply pinged off his GRD's heavy armored plates.

The man immediately dropped to one knee, allowing Berger behind him to rest the barrel of his handheld flamer on the shield's rim for cover as he pressed the trigger and filled the entire howitzer nest in front of him with the purple flame of burning Sakuradite. The intensely volatile nature of Sakuradite permitted it to be used as a more efficient fuel than petrol-based flamethrowers of old, meaning that rather than a backpack of fuel a PYRO merely needed to carry a number of liter-sized fuel cartridges.

Ivan wasn't sure whether it was psychological, but he was certain that he could still smell the stench of burning flesh even through his helmet's filters.

' _One Sin, One Grace. Block it out._ '

Shutting away his emotions, he snapped back into awareness just in time to double-tap a soldier who burst from a doorway on his right in an attempt to flank them. The rest of his platoon jerked their carbines in that direction.

"Stairway," noted their Staff Sergeant, Nicchi. "Good catch, Petrov. Kuznek and Berger, stay here with M squad and make sure we're not flanked. Rasco, take your squad, along with Acker, Durate, and N squad with you to clear the West half of this bunker. Sweep and burn. The rest of you, with me."

The platoon split as directed, each group with at least one GUARD and one PYRO to give them an advantage in the tight corridors.

Ivan's fireteam was the smaller than Rasco's, but his had more heavies so in his mind it balanced out. And working the rear he wasn't subjected to much direct fire anyway. Mancini blocked any oncoming fire with his shield and body, while Roman cleared any hostiles they encountered with a swipe of his flamer. It was less 'fish in a barrel' than 'fish in a concrete oven', but that was neither here nor there.

In nearly a kilometer of curved bunkers, filled to the brim with hostiles, he only needed to fire his weapon a dozen more times. The heavies took care of the rest. All in all it was a rather... lackluster first deployment for the Airborne. He'd expected heavy fire— _casualties_ , but he hadn't so much as seen a papercut during this entire operation.

It was just sheer butchery.

Sighing as they reached their end of the bunker floor and radioed in their success, Ivan couldn't help but wonder. There was something wrong with this whole invasion. Technological advantage could only account for so much, right?

' _So how the hell did these guys manage to conquer most of Africa?_ '

* * *

 _This_ was the FPA?

Lelouch furrowed his brow as he inspected the preliminary casualty report from the port assaults. He'd been prepared for up to 10% losses as his men directly flung themselves at some of the heaviest fortifications he'd ever seen—with perhaps the exception of Mt. Fuji.

But nine injuries and twenty fatalities? That was absurd. It was less than a single platoon!

Before this operation he'd spent hours pouring through intelligence on the FPA's divisions. General Bennanni of the Black Stars was supposed to be a graduate of the Paris Military Academy. Sure his invasion must have caught them off guard, especially when paired with the Airborne's immense technological advantage—but those Chariots especially weren't _invincible_. Especially to the kind of heavy cannons he'd seen along the port bunkers. They should have downed at least a good dozen during the fly-in.

Yet according to his report, they'd only managed to down _one_? He was good, he'd be the first to admit, _really good_. But _twenty-nine_ casualties during an _invasion_?

And while the Tangier Resistance had succeeded in delaying the FPA armored division's deployment, they should have mobilized by now. Yet according to ongoing updates from the Frumentarii they were still waiting in their base.

For what? A counter-attack? That made no sense. If they were smart they'd retreat in the face of his overwhelming firepower, for which reason he had the Frumentarii positioned to set off landslides along the main highways out of Tangiers to trap them until he could fly over and deal with them. If they were stupid they'd attempt to retake the beaches and be promptly annihilated by the Sword.

But to hold position?

It made no sense... or did it? A poor-reputed but oddly-successful enemy crumbling with virtually no resistance at the most obvious staging point for an invasion. Heavy reinforcements hovering just out of range, but making no attempt to aid or retreat. He'd seen this before...

"A trap," said Cornelia to his left, in the same line of thought. His eyes snapped to her, the pieces clicking together with horrifying clarity.

"But how?" he questioned aloud.

The FPA couldn't have predicted the Airborne, yet they were still in place as if the trap were going according to plan. So not for the Airborne? Or would affect the Airborne anyway?

"They left the docks intact," Lelouch realized. "They've no navy, nor shipping that would necessitate them—yet they left the critical resources for a naval invasion intact at the blatantly perfect area for one."

"The docks... where the entire Army and Navy would be docking within just a few hours were we to simply take this as good fortune or proof of our abilities."

Internally, Lelouch _seethed_. Had the invasion not gone even better than the FPA had possibly imagined thanks to the Airborne, he imagined that even he would have fallen for this ploy.

"Their artillery was all concentrated at the beach, so a bomb. Or several. Our most elite units land to secure our perfect beachhead after what should have been a relatively-costly but worthwhile assault for a normal military. Right as our entire proper invasion force begins unloading, both harbors light up like New Years. Massive fatalities, then the armor swoops in and finishes off the survivors."

"The combined forces of the European Union," said Cornelia darkly, with barely-checked wrath in her tone "wiped off the earth before they even set foot on the docks. Hoisted by their own confidence."

Lelouch's eyes clamped shut as he came to terms with how close he'd just been to ending his plans then and there. "European Intelligence," he muttered. "We've been primarily piggybacking on the French and Germans for information on the FPA. These people have spent over two centuries under European rule. They know how they think, and they know how they plan. That's how they conquered most of Africa: by relying on being underestimated, because the Europeans never took them seriously."

"Reminds me of someone else I know..."

Noting the bridge crew around them, Lelouch tried to reign himself in. He switched his mask's audio to a private loop with Cornelia.

"We'll discuss this further in private, away from so many prying ears. In the meantime, contact Sayoko and have her send our best to sweep the harbors—service tunnels, shipping containers, everything."

"And the men?"

He considered this for a moment, before shaking his head. "Keep it off the field. They won today, and backtracking our position on the FPA so early in the campaign would damage our credibility with them. Once we're out of Spanish North Africa, we can justify revising our assessment, but until then this stays with the officers."

"Agreed."

* * *

Sure enough, as Lelouch was informed right before lunching in his private quarters on the _Damocles_ , both of the Tangiers harbors had been discretely packed to the gills with high explosives rigged to several remote detonators. Sayoko's Frumentarii had successfully disarmed them, but the closeness of the call made him worry for the future of the campaign.

He was better than than. Had the ease of his victories in Japan gone to his head? His actions there had been the culmination of years upon years of planning, after all. But now? He was in territory that hadn't existed when he'd first set out on this path.

How easily he had fallen into the mindset of the Europeans—even when it blatantly contradicted with reality. 'The FPA are a pack of militaristic idiot savants'. Yet they had conquered two thirds of Africa and established one of the most solid defensive lines he'd ever laid eyes upon? It was exactly the sort of thing Area 11's D.I.S had said about Zero and his Black Knights.

Of course, the parallels between himself and the FPA didn't make them correct in their crusade against Europe. Their proven atrocities against both their own people and innocent European civilians spoke for themselves in that matter.

Without an effective endgame, all they were fighting for was slaughter.

Exhaling slowly, he rubbed his temples and reassessed the situation.

His primary plan of utilizing the Airborne to victory was still viable, as if nothing else today had confirmed that the FPA had no idea how to counter them. The stratagems they had in place were designed to combat a conventional European army, the kind the defenses on the beaches had been built to fight. They'd been expecting Europeans.

He could use that...

Thus far he'd acted exactly as the FPA would have expected a European to act with his flying army, the only hitch being that their bomb wouldn't go off when it was supposed to. If they could be convinced that it was a mechanical malfunction rather than the enemy commander catching on to their plans, he'd hold the advantage of knowing their game while they were still masquerading as incompetent rabble.

Gene would have to warned, but the man had enough sense in his head to realize his own cultural blind spots. It could wait until he was done supervising the Army and Navy landings, however. General Darlton had taken over leadership of the Airborne while they secured the city and Lelouch lunched with his inner circle.

His fingers suddenly burned painfully, causing his to drop the nub of his forgotten cigarette on the ashtray next to him with a distinctly unmanly yelp.

"I do hope you don't expect me to not comment on that, Master," said Kallen in a deadpan from across the table.

He glanced up from his engrossing chain of thought at the rest of his table. Jeremiah, Kallen, Cornelia, Euphy, Sayoko, Mao, C.C, and the Irregulars arrayed around it. All were glancing at him with amused expressions.

"You'll hold your tongue if you know know what's good for you," he threatened with faux pompousness. "I'm not above having Reuben install shark tanks and trapdoors under all of your seats."

"What about kittens?" suggested Euphy innocently. "Ferocious... attack kittens."

Cornelia scoffed, affronted. "Our future evil emperor of the world will not have attack kittens on his flying doom fortress. It'd just be tacky. One to stroke perhaps as he maniacally plotted, but keeping them in _bulk..._ "

"Now now, Cornelia," said Lelouch, holding up a hand in contemplation. "Our bubbly pinkette may be on to something there. I mean... sharks are just so high-maintenance, you know? Tank cleaning, water filtration, accidentally tripping and falling in during the final confrontation with the hero. Now, if I could outfit them with _lasers_ or something they might be worth the investment, but Rakshata tells me that project won't be completed until at least Quarter-Four next year. Attack kittens might be a good stopgap."

"Do you think Napoleon had conversations like this with _his_ inner circle?" Jeremiah wondered aloud to himself, sipping a wineglass.

"I can confirm as a matter of fact, he did," chimed in C.C. "Although, most of his advisers' cracks were about conquering the world to initiate a eugenics campaign that would wipe out anyone taller than him. To this day, I'm uncertain as to whether or not he genuinely had it on his bucket list."

Lelouch nodded solemnly. "It's good to know that I'm following the footsteps of my predecessors."

Objectively, in the back of his mind he spotted Euphy twirling her bangs. When they were kids, that had been her tell whenever she was being sneaky about something, and he belatedly realized that their entire conversation had been baited to pull him from his critical introspection.

He smiled softly, and let it pass without comment.

Sancia coughed delicately, drawing his attention to the side of the table where she and her sisters had arrayed themselves. "Not to kill the lively air, Master, but what's the plan from here on? I imagine that it will have to be adjusted given what we've just learned from the FPA."

"Not immediately," he answered. "We're going to continue acting as if we didn't realize anything was wrong with the harbors, and that the failure to detonate was a malfunction. We'll have the Frumentarii reassigned to acquiring intelligence on the FPA itself independent of any European reports, while strategically we use this temporary upper hand to blitz along the coast as planned, just more warily."

Cornelia nodded her approval, a tinge of shame in her features at nearly falling dupe to the same ploy.

"Speaking of," Lelouch said, "Sayoko, how go your little apprentices?"

Similarly to many institutions such as the military, police, and courts, the European Union had no overarching intelligence services. The three most prominent were the French DGSE, the German FIS, and the Russian RIS. It was through the DGSE that he'd arranged for European aid in Japan, and while he'd since placed its director under his Geass, he needed his own intelligence, especially as today had proven.

Fortunately, he'd just been placed in charge of building a united EU military, including a military intelligence service. Naturally he'd placed Sayoko in charge of the project, and she'd relished the opportunity to openly recruit agents from a _much_ larger pool.

Of those she brought into the agency, only about three in five scored the right indexes on the psych evaluation that indicated openness to an idea like the New Order, but when dealing with thousands upon thousands of recruits, his pet had still managed to amass quite the secret cabal of loyal agents—bigger than the Shadows had ever been.

"Quite well. Mao's only had to prune a handful of them when they questioned orders too much during Fulcrum indoctrination."

"Attagirl," praised Lelouch, reaching over to the seat on his immediate right and tousling the mind reader's purple hair. She beamed, and leaned into his touch like a kitten. His ferocious... attack kitten. Perhaps he should sit _her_ on his lap and stroke her when he planned maliciously. She'd probably greatly enjoy that, come to think of it.

"By the way, Master," said Kallen, drawing his attention to her place across the table, "I hope you realize that if I'm not given deployment orders when we move up to eliminate the FPA's armor, I will be _exceedingly_ displeased. Rakshata and Ashford labored day and night to have the Guren MK-IV battle ready by the mobilization deadline, and damn it I'm going to take it for a spin."

Jeremiah chuckled to himself and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ' _whipped_ ', but Lelouch just smiled fondly at her. "Rest assured my dear: you'll be spearheading the armored deployment, along with the Jovian Knights and the Eighth Airborne Armor."

A low whistle sounded from Cornelia. "Lelouch, love, I realize that you're a tad miffed about the harbors, but is that not that a smidge overkill? The Frumentarii directly confirmed that most of the FPA's armor consists of Britannia's retired diesel tanks from when they made the transition to Sakuradite and Knightmares. With a bit of air support, Kozuki here could probably take them on by _herself_. Toss in Darlton's sons and those mad Polacks..."

"The Vox Populi are doing everything in their power to destroy my name publicly," he explained. "Thanks to Diethard's work in Europe, most of its citizens will be at least tentatively hopeful that I'll be able to retake their territory and end their hardships within a few years. When they see footage of an entire FPA armored division annihilated to the last man in the first engagement, I will win their hearts and discredit the Vox."

Said princess' face turned mildly reproachful. "I would caution you against letting politics influence your military strategy. That has been the death of many a campaign."

"Unfortunately, that's how it has to be. An Emperor can neither be politician nor general. He must be both, or either will consume him."

Cornelia mulled that thought over for a moment, before nodding and silently retracting her protest.

A knock on the door interrupted their ensuing conversation, announcing the entrance of one of Sayoko's Fulcrum Frumentarii. After bowing to him, she trotted over to her boss and whispered a report in the assassin's ear. After listening to it, Sayoko whispered a few questions back, then nodded and dismissed the agent.

Lelouch simply raised an eyebrow.

"The FPA just attempted to blow that harbor. When it didn't work, they finally mobilized their armor for a retreat. I put the team ready to sabotage the road at Wassine on standby."

Taking one last bite of his _foie gras_ , Lelouch dabbed his mouth and replaced his mask. "Back to work then, I suppose. Kallen, there's a shuttle on Deck 7 ready to ferry you over to the _Azrael_ where your Guren is. Everyone else, it has been a pleasurable meal. You know your posts."

Jeremiah and the Irregulars immediately stood to escort him, Cornelia, and Mao back up to the bridge.

No rest for the Wicked.

* * *

Major General Frederick Sebastian Bennanni's smug grin turned to a frown when the mother of all booby traps failed to go off at the Tangiers Harbors. A series of curses at all manner of targets were thrown from his lips as he fiddled with the detonator he kept in his office desk. But no matter what he did, a mushroom cloud refused to appear on the horizon.

That was concerning. The Harbor Plan had been the combined strategy of himself and Prince Minister Schneizel. The Tingitana Penunsula's coastal defenses had been deliberately equipped with shoddy weaponry and raw recruits to play in to the European Oppressors' image of the FPA—to lure them in, then wipe them out.

With Europe's populist democracy, that sort of devastating loss would kill public support for an African war in an instant, and therefore kill that war itself.

Yet if the harbors, now full of the Colonial invaders, didn't explode... that left him in a very unenviable position.

He had no earthly idea how to deal with those aerial monstrosities currently hovering over Tangiers like vultures. Even combined, concentrated fire hadn't penetrated their crimson shields; based on their approach speeds and disregard for terrain it would be difficult to outrun them with his heavy armor; and the weaponry they'd displayed would tear through any static defenses he could think of.

The only solution he could think of was swarming it with either close-range fighter jets or long-range artillery fire and hoping that those shields could be worn down or overstretched.

But all of his artillery had just been destroyed during the landings, placed to bleed whatever shocktroops the Europeans threw at his shores to conquer them—and the nearest airbase was in Rabat, two and a half hours away by highway.

Throwing his division back into Tangiers would just be a waste of men and metal. Rabat was the reinforcement-garrison in the event of a successful landing anyway, and would have the aircraft and artillery to take a genuine crack at those airships.

Taking a puff of his cigar, he clenched it between his teeth and straightened his uniform.

A tactical retreat it was, then.

* * *

Pluto eyed the approaching armored column through his binoculars. It had taken about an hour for them to get here from the time word had reached him of their mobilization. Dreadfully slow, considering they'd already been at attention since the landings.

The pass he and the rest of his Explorator team had arrayed themselves at was the narrowest point of the South highway out of Tangiers, within fifty klicks anyway. The hills on both sides of the road wouldn't be too difficult for tanks to detour over, but they were covered with thick trees that would drive their pace to a crawl. Given the speed of His Immortal Majesty's airfleet, that would be all he needed to close the gap.

He pulled the binoculars away and turned his head to look across at the other hillside where the others were arrayed.

" _Column approaching. Status?_ " he asked over his CMN-EXO's internal comms.

There was a brief pause, before his second, Circe, crackled back. " _Charges set and primed. On you._ "

He gave the column one last, dismissive glance, but he couldn't resist the urge.

" _This_ is how a detonator works, you cretins."

* * *

Bennanni's concern escalated to outright fear when the pass near Wassine decided to landslide and block the road when their convoy was just under a kilometer away. If _that_ wasn't a deliberate delaying tactic he didn't know what was.

He briefly considered sending a team into the hills to find the saboteurs, but he knew that he no longer had the time. Delaying his column meant that the enemy was not permitting them to retreat.

' _Shit._ '

Sparing a glance backwards, he saw that the distant vultures above Tangiers had indeed turned in his direction. One of the troop ships in particular seemed closer than the others, but it was hard to judge distance with aerial targets like that.

' _Can't outrun those things. Hide in the forests? Or spin around and put those shields to the test?'_

The former was likely the smartest option. Thanks to the 'Terraform Africa Project', the hills of the Northern Moroccan region had been turned into thick lumber forests that would provide them visual cover from the air. But his pace in there would be a snail's crawl. It would take him _days_ to reach Rabat, and those ships had enough weaponry to simply carpet-bomb the entire forest if they were determined enough.

If he spread out his division enough, he could probably at least a regiment through.

No. He wasn't settling for the survival of a regiment at the price of a division, simply to get away. Those airships _weren't_ invincible. Every weapon had a weakness. And by god he was going to find it. If four hundred and fifty 120mm cannons couldn't down at least one of the damned things, there was no point in retreat anyway.

He pulled down the radio and flicked it to the command channel.

" _All operators, halt column and assume rear-facing defensive formation. The Colonials are coming to greet us and were going to give them four hundred and fifty welcome-back presents._ "

* * *

' _How cute,_ ' thought Kallen as she watched the distant FPA tanks spread out into a curved outward arc. They thought they could overwhelm the shield. Unfortunately for them, they were fundamentally misunderstanding how the Radiant Luminous worked.

It didn't intercept projectiles by physically blocking them, not primarily anyway. It functioned on a two-tiered system, independently adapted from the Radiant Wave Surger and Blaze Luminous technologies. What was primarily intercepting the shells when the shield came up was actually a thin film of concentrated radiation that caused any explosive projectile that went through it to prematurely explode, rendering it virtually impotent as it lost all momentum and payload.

Layered slightly _behind_ that was a backup Blaze Luminous physical shield that would block shrapnel or purely kinetic projectiles from passing through.

Theoretically, the best way to take down a ship equipped with a Radiant Luminous would be to bombard it for hours and hours on end with either flak or armor-piercing shells with the explosive component removed until the power finally failed.

But considering how unintuitive that was, the goal was for nobody to ever find that out.

Turning away from the open hangar door, she walked up to the foot of her crouching Guren MK-IV. While Master Lelouch was the love of her life, this machine was a definite threat to their relationship.

A group of Ashford technicians gave her curt nods as she inspected the machine. The first Knightmare built from the ground-up to accommodate and work with a control rig. Flight-enabled, RL-shielded, and a full order of magnitude deadlier than each previous generation. It was a thing of beauty. If she'd had this baby when taking Tokyo, the Black Knights could have stayed home.

Five clacking pairs of footsteps drew her attention to the hangar door where the 'Jovian Knights' were arriving. Having seen them in action, she was forced to admit that Cornelia's former royal guard had definite skill—moreso even than the Irregulars when they weren't using their Geass.

Not to mention they hadn't even hesitated to be fitted with control rigs, which won them a few more points in her book. They were probably the only five pilots in the world that would be able to keep up with her once she got going.

Her only problem with them was...

"Kozuki. Her Highness bade us accompany you on this assignment."

They were exclusively loyal to Cornelia.

The woman had good qualities, Master Lelouch wouldn't have brought her into his bed otherwise, but Kallen just couldn't wrap her head around how someone could see the totality of her Master and still devote themself to another. Even Cornelia _herself_ saw it, but the five adopted brothers, not to mention Guilford, had made it perfectly clear since day one that they followed their _princess'_ orders, and no others.

It mattered little as far as the chain of command went since Master Lelouch passed almost all of his orders down through Cornelia anyway, but the attitude grated her like sandpaper.

She got the feeling it grated Master Lelouch as well, given the nickname he'd assigned them. 'The Jovian Knights', or rather, Jupiter's Knights. Considering that Master Lelouch was an immortal who spent his days sitting on a throne in the sky, it was rather clear who he knew they _really_ served.

"Alfred," she greeted back, relying on all of her private lessons to keep the hostility out of her tone. "That's correct. We're deploying with the Eight Armored Regiment to eliminate that enemy division. About four hundred and fifty main battle tanks, half that in support and other vehicles."

The blonde's brow quirked. "Just tanks? _No_ KMFs?"

She shrugged. "Intelligence is still working that out. French and Germans have reported their use in small numbers, especially during the Crimson Night and along Joffre's Line, but never more than a few dozen at a time. Theories are that a) the Britannians only gave them a bare handful, b) they don't have the Sakuradite to keep up more than a few, or c) they have them all in reserve, to keep the Europeans' guard down."

"My experience, it's _always_ C."

"Wouldn't matter anyway. This entire airfleet is a decade ahead of anything else being fielded. The Britannian army itself could show up right beneath us and they wouldn't even scratch this LDS before it blew it them away."

Alfred shook his head slowly. "You've too much faith in your 'Master'. The boy's reckless, and he puts far too much stock in unproven strategy and cutting-edge tech."

Anger spiked through Kallen's head like a lance, but she tried to channel what Master Lelouch would say. He'd tell her not to needlessly antagonize an ally. He'd tell her that Alfred would change his tune once the man he doubted was Emperor of Europe. He'd tell her to hold her tongue and wait.

" _Your_ Emperor conquered a third of the world using _table scraps_ from the man currently heading R &D for my Master." He'd probably have told her not to say that.

The Britannian's eyes narrowed, and Kallen couldn't help but twist the knife. "And the princess you put so much faith in begs for my Master's cock on a nightly basis. I should know, since I'm usually riding it at the time."

It was thanks to Sayoko's training that she dodged the punch aimed at the back of her head. She spun and swept her leg out, knocking Claudio on his ass. Alfred used the distraction to tackle her around the waist, bringing her to the floor. Rather than fight it, she rolled with it and pulled her knees in to catapult him off her. He landed in a heap, while she kicked herself back to her feet.

She realized at this point that perhaps provoking five larger and military-trained brothers might not have been the wisest decision. It was clear that they'd trained in fighting together, as they encircled her in practiced sort of manner.

A tank shell detonating less than a hundred yards away was the only thing that prevented their conflict from escalating further.

Alfred looked ready to continue regardless, but Bart, the most bookish of the brothers, put a hand on his arm and passed a meaningful look that Kallen couldn't quite translate. The blonde hesitated, growled, and stomped towards his Stormbolt KMF with a hiss of ' _We'll finish this later... Number_.'

Slowing her breathing and belatedly realizing Master Lelouch would be unlikely to take word of this scuffle well, she shouldered past the technicians who'd been watching the fight from the sidelines and levered herself into the Guren MK-IV. Brushing her hair aside, she retrieved the control rig plug and connected it to the specialized headrest behind her.

No matter how many times she did so, jumping in would never become a familiar sensation. Going from living, hot-blooded redhead to cold, radiation-filled machine was not an easy transition to make.

Rising, she unfolded her metal limbs and flexed her claw. The Darlton brothers jumped-in to their own frames and went through similar startup procedures. She was thankful that their aid was unlikely to be necessary, as after a fight like that she was unsure of their willingness to watch her back.

" _Commander Kozuki_ ," greeted a voice in her head in accented French. Thank god Master Lelouch had drilled the language into her before this invasion. " _Colonel Sobieski, of the Eight Airborne Armor, at your service. We're standing by for deployment at your orders, ma'am._ "

The sudden reminder of the authority and responsibility vested in her only drove the guilt deeper in. Swallowing, despite not technically having the anatomy to do so, she activated her own comms.

"Colonel, glad to have you with us. I've heard good things about your regiment. Ready to give Abdul a spanking? _"_

A deep chuckle filled her head. " _I think this'll be a little more than a spanking, ma'am. Six hours into the counter-invasion and we've got an entire division cornered._ "

"Well stay frosty, Colonel. It's a cornered rat that fights the hardest."

" _Acknowledged. Permission to deploy?_ "

"Granted. See you on the ground."

Stepping to the edge of the open hangar door, she rolled her shoulders and willed her LIFT unit into activation. Taking a mental breath as the Jovian Knights cued up behind her, she then leapt into the open air.

There was no real way to translate the feeling of flying while jumped-in to muscle movements. Perhaps had humans been born with wings there would have been some correlation, but without that it was virtually impossible to describe the alien yet natural sensation of soaring through the air using nothing but your own body. Or what felt like your body, anyway.

The first few tank shots fired must have been for range-adjustment, as it was only shortly after she deployed that the incoming fire picked up in earnest. Almost all of it was directed at the _Azrael_ 's bridge, but she was forced to dodge a few stray shots as she dove towards the enemy armor—the Jovians settling into a V-formation behind her.

Despite not technically _seeing_ it, her sensors alerted her to the hundred and five LIFT-equipped Raptor KMFs swooping down in her wake.

The Eight Airborne Armor, better known by their self-dubbed title ' _The Winged Hussars_ ', were unsurprisingly a regiment recruited entirely from the Polish-Lithuanian region. Perhaps it was just the knighthood in their blood, but their region had produced enough talented KMF pilots that Master Lelouch had made them their own regiment rather than the other ethnically-mixed regiments.

Every man in the regiment had volunteered for the 'experimental' control rig installment, also making them quite possibly the deadliest armored regiment in the world when paired with their production-model seventh generation KMFs—which they'd decorated by attaching steel frames with metal feathers to their LIFT units, giving them 'wings' in the style of the knights that were their namesake.

As a side note: they were also completely mad. In Kallen's opinion, they and the Iscariot would get along like brothers, if they didn't butcher each other in seconds over denominational differences.

Surprisingly, even as she closed in the FPA tanks didn't divert their fire to deal with her. Was it spite? Had they realized that there was no escape, and were simply trying to down the ship?

She mentally shrugged. It wouldn't make a difference either way.

With a flick of her wrist, her claw switched to 'bombardment mode'. Not a single barrel swiveled her way as she aimed her palm and unleashed a beam of concentrated energy—essentially a down-scaled version of the _Sword of Damocles_. It couldn't cut a bunker in half, but it could certainly wreck a tank.

Almost lazily, she swept her outstretched hand in a wide swathe, causing a dozen tanks to buckle, swell, and then detonate spectacularly.

Ejecting the spent shell from her gauntlet, she marveled that still the enemy was completely ignoring her. That was an almost respectable level of discipline. On her flanks, the Jovian Knights methodically began taking the enemy armor apart with their vibro-lances—adapted from the Lancelot's MVS.

Then the Winged Hussars arrived.

Like birds of prey they dive-bombed the front line of tanks and speared them through with their own vibro-lances. In a blink, one hundred and five battle tanks were reduced to burning scrap as the Hussars disengaged and swooped around for another pass.

In response, discipline finally seemed to break down in the FPA. About a third kept firing on the _Azrael_ , while the rest split formation and tried to blow the madmen out of the sky.

Smiling to herself, Kallen decided to add to the chaos—twitching her shoulders and opening the missile pods mounted on her LIFT unit. Sighting the center of the enemy formation where the tanks were still milling around in an attempt to distance themselves from their fellows, she mentally triggered them.

Two dozen missiles shot in an upwards arc, peaking above the target and then each _splitting_ into about six missiles apiece.

Rakshata had designed the Radiant Wave Cluster-Missiles for killing handfuls of grouped Knightmares, but they worked just as well for _dozens_ of grouped tanks.

The miniature missiles then shot downwards, some impacting harmlessly into the dirt but most embedding themselves into tanks. Then, with a simple thought, they activated. Red, crackling light briefly formed a haze over the center formation before somewhere in the range of eighty vehicles bubbled under condensed radioactive energy, then exploded.

Less than a second later the Hussars dove in again, taking another hundred tanks with them. Of the original six hundred-ish vehicles that had once formed the division, less than a fifth were left.

Seeing the path she'd made in the center, Kallen flew through it to the rear line—where she imagined the commander had positioned himself.

* * *

' _What... what is this?!_ '

These were not Europeans. The Europeans had tanks and planes and the occasional knockoff KMF. He'd admit that the airships had been a deadly surprise, but it was the kind of needlessly-elegant scientific marvel Bennanni would expect of them.

But these Knightmares? There was no elegance to them. Just death.

With a swoop of those winged horrors, he lost C-Company. The crimson vanguard opened two boxes on its shoulders and a second later E-Company was cooked alive by that red hell.

It was bad enough that they failed to so much as scratch that airship, even with their concentrated fire, but then it unleashed these killing machines on them? It was inhuman.

He froze as the red and silver frame—the deadliest singular opponent on the field—took to the air and darted up the blazing center of the formation. Darted towards _him_. On its way, with almost contemptuous ease, it swiped its hand and brought red death to another armored platoon. Was this what they had fought for? Was this what Prince Minister Schneizel had brought upon them?

Was this what they deserved?

* * *

Far above the city of Tangiers, Lelouch stood on the Avalon's rooftop observation deck—leaning against the rail with one of his omnipresent cigarettes in hand. If there was one unexpected upside to immortality, it was that he no longer had to pace himself with his second-favorite indulgence.

C.C had pizza, he had sex and tobacco.

Staring at the distant Southern horizon, his mind turned introspective.

He had roughly two years to conquer sixty-nine percent of Africa if he wanted it done time to consolidate the territory and turn the victory into a European crown before Charles came knocking on his shores. At around twenty-one million square kilometers, it averaged out to twenty-eight thousand square kilometers a day.

Of course, he had some shortcuts in mind, but they couldn't be relied on.

That was why he had constructed the Airborne—because he could not afford to be slowed nor stopped under any circumstances. Any nail that stuck out in the Army's path would have to be beaten back down, and the Airborne were the hammer with which he would do it. They'd also come to serve as his personal army once he controlled the officers and won the loyalty of the men.

He was split across three fronts now, each of which had to go perfectly the next few years. Kaguya, Kewell, Reuben, and Rakshata were still in Neo-Japan, the former two ruling it and the latter two running his R&D programs. With his Empress as the public face and Kewell the Vizier behind the throne, they were effectively industrializing the nation and turning it into an economic powerhouse in Europe when paired with Ashford's exclusive tech and the Sakuradite stores. Of course, Milly was currently still with Nunnally at their home in Ashford.

Diethard Ried had been given his pick of the Shadows and assigned the task of establish a new political party with the aid of Lelouch's European allies: Tsar Alexander of Russia, Kaiser Wilhelm V of Germany, and King Ferdinand of Spain. Alexander and Wilhelm had joined him voluntarily once his aims were explained.

After all, it's hard to argue against a European Emperor when both of their job titles were adapted from the word 'Caesar'. And once you accept that, it's hard to refuse the immortal virtuoso for the position.

Ferdinand had unfortunately been more difficult. The man had only recently switched to a Pax Romana platform in response to the Britannian invasion of his homeland going unanswered by his neighbors. Unfortunately, his philosophy was more rigid than Lelouch had anticipated and he'd been forced to _persuade_ the man.

He'd also made nice with most of the other Pax Romana leaders for later in his campaign, but those were the only three he'd fully enlightened to his ambitions.

Initially, only Alexander would publicly support the new 'Ave Imperator' party, with its central belief being the establishment of a singular European Emperor to serve as a rallying figurehead for the EU, but after they won sufficient support Wilhelm and Ferdinand would begin slowly changing their political stances to align with it.

As the central head of the Pax party, Wilhelm would be able to win over his fellow party members once he switched stances. As a former central figure in the Vox party, Ferdinand would be able to poach a few of their more conservative members and discredit their platform in the public eye as one of their most outspoken members began waving an Emperor's flag.

If he could, he'd just Geass every head of state in the EU, but unfortunately that was more difficult than it sounded. Each one had their own security services, surveillance, intelligence, spies, and other means of information gathering. The more he forcibly brought under his control, the more he risked word of his abilities leaking.

They'd come out eventually, of course, but he wanted it to be on his own terms.

Meanwhile, Gene was overseeing the Army, Navy, and Airforce with some like-minded officers he'd met over the years. A few of them wouldn't be amiable to the New Order, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Once the landings were complete here to secure the beachhead, he'd take the Airborne and swing East along the coastline—wrecking the defenses of every major port along the way. The Union Military would land at each one, taking the entire Northern coast of Africa. With the Mediterranean secure he could reopen the Suez Canal, then work down the Eastern coast of Africa until he reached the besieged German East Africa.

At the point where the beleaguered Colonial regions could be safely reinforced and reliably resupplied, he'd be able to pin the FPA on three fronts: North, South, and East. While he now had doubts about how disorganized the FPA truly were, it was undeniable that they were decentralized and susceptible to fracturing.

He'd take them apart piecemeal, then use their head as a prop during Ave Imperator campaigning—using the peoples' fear as the Britannians sharpened their knives across the Atlantic. Who better to unite the Europeans than the man who had reunited Africa?

Taking one last drag on his cigarette, he flicked it over the railing and watched the smoldering stub cartwheel into the sea.

The world was within his grasp. All he needed to do was reach out and take it.

* * *

[ _End Chapter_ ]

* * *

 ***Whistles* Well, readers, welcome back. Neolyph here with Arc 2 of Darwin: Ave Imperator. It's been a while. As usual, apologies for the wait. I had to do a metric shit-ton of worldbuilding for this arc. You legitimately have no idea, I've been using mapping programs and topography to work out the invasion, watching WWII documentaries to get ideas for military buildup, trying to think up alternative political histories for both Europe and Africa—**

 **Well I digress. Now that I've got a rough roadmap for this arc, update time should be shorter (though probably still a bit longer than last arc). This chapter in particular took like four rewrites because I couldn't figure out where the hell to start this arc. Originally it was going to start at the point in the prologue up there, but then I was like 'am I really going to have like one chapter worth of background shit, then do a two-year timeskip? Because that would fuck up the pacing'. So that's why this chapter has so many explainers in it.**

 **Also, you'll have probably noticed a few formatting changes, like putting my ANs at the end of the chapter and the pre-chapter tableaus (which I have shamelessly ripped-off from Lelouch of Britannia, and am also using as a resource for this arc).**

 **Side note: I proof-read this chapter at like 5 AM because I couldn't sleep, but now I'm ready to go to bed and I probably missed something. So if there are any inconsistencies/errors drop me a review or PM and I'll try to edit them out after I get off work tomorrow.**

 **And speaking of, reviews!**

 **Generatedname: I'm sort of keeping Mao in my back pocket until I can decide what to do with her. She'll have her payoff, I just don't know quite when. On the _wunderwaffen_ point, I'm also trying to keep that in check a tad—though I'm doing it on a larger scale. I don't like the idea of a single super-robot wiping out half an army, but I like the idea of a new, unconventional weapon type changing the course of warfare. Britannia did it by introducing Knightmares, which could fuck up basically any tank, and Lelouch is doing it by mass-producing airships and building an army around them—in essence allowing him to use naval warfare principles in-land. I still have no idea how the things didn't get more widely employed in canon. And Lelouch's Todoh is precisely the role I envisioned Cornelia for, but Mao's abilities translate better to bodyguarding and politics than direct combat—since they rely on sustained eye contact. Once again, thanks for the constructive critiques. They're what make a writer improve.**

 **Erit of Eastcris: Charles isn't going to out Geass, at least not yet, mostly because it would sound retarded. The memories of the Black Knights' betrayal of Lelouch on Schneizel's flimsy-ass evidence still piss me off, despite it technically being correct. I mean, imagine if Putin tried to leak information that Trump had secret magic powers that allowed him to mind-control anyone he met eyes with. He might as well try leaking that lizards are the secret world government. The fact that they tried to murder him without a hint of hesitation is why in my story pretty much every canon Black Knight besides Kallen has been killed or Geassed. Charles is going to wait until he spots something that could serve as sufficient evidence of Geass to prove it publicly. I also quite like canon Suzaku, despite his occasional stupidity. In his better scenes, he's actually pretty much the perfect foil to Lelouch, and especially near the end I liked their relationship. But without his background, I wrote him as I figured he'd have been—the way canon Lelouch describes a young Suzaku.**

 **RandomReview: Like I think I've said before, I think my biggest struggle as an author is resisting the urge to avoid instant gratification. What drives me to write fanfiction is the desire to see the works I love—but with exactly what I want to happen, happening. That unfortunately doesn't lend itself well to my favorite characters getting their teeth kicked in, even if it raises tension or drama. I'm still trying to keep a semblance of threat, like Lelouch in this chapter nearly stumbling his army into a crippling booby trap, but you're right that it's pretty curb-stompy. Like I've said previously, with a power like Geass and without stupid contrivance, I don't see how you couldn't easily conquer the world. If an idea strikes me that'll give him a legit threat I'll implement it with glee, but I've no idea how to think one up normally I'm afraid. And on the Marianne thing, I honestly just overlooked that by accident, but as it changes pretty much nothing I'll keep it as-is. In a way, by killing V.V, Lelouch technically killed his mother (which now that I'm writing it down I realize is something I'm going to have to work into the story).**

 **SwagCultivator: I've a few ideas for the Chinese, but I haven't quite committed to any yet. Like I told RR above, Lelouch's OPness is something I struggle and fail to overcome. If it helps, think of this story like Overlord or V for Vendetta.**

 **silentorphan: It's something I considered, but the idea of Charles 'outing' Lelouch is a tad flimsy IMHO. Image that as someone who was just liberated from essentially a concentration camp by a charismatic masked revolutionary and his Japanese cohorts, you proceed to make the man your Emperor and then the guy who put you in a concentration camp tries convincing you that your Emperor is secretly his long-dead son. Even if the mask is a tad suspicious, it could just as easily be symbolic (as Lelouch will make it later in this arc when that very question arises).**

 **Guest: The Marianne thing was an oversight I've decided to keep. As I've said in earlier chapters, I aged-up Kaguya so that her inclusion in the harem doesn't carry distinct pedophilia vibes. And keeping Suzaku alive isn't all that risky. He's in an underground black-site, with nobody coming to rescue him. Belgium is still part of the Netherlands, the name 'Belgian Congo' just stuck because it was older. They weren't necessarily 'assigned' the Congo. They'd already claimed it, and Napoleon recognized the claim. The African districts are flexible, with countries selling, buying, or trading regions the time. The terraforming was applied to certain regions like Spain and southern Italy, but considering their levels of existing development, most of their farming had to fit in Africa. If Europe put their minds to it, they could easily generate enough farmland to feed themselves, but it'd be incredibly costly and would take a long time. That's why they're willing to put their eggs in the 'reconquer Africa' basket.**

 **EVA-Saiyajin: That's basically what I'm going for. We like in a post-modern age of cynicism, and you have no idea how much that pisses me off. So most of my writing leans towards more romantic stylings. We just don't get Alexanders, Caesars, or Napoleons anymore, but by god I'm putting them in my writing.**

 **Infernus est in animo: The smoking thing came mostly as a way to more subtly convey the amount of stress Lelouch represses. Not to mention, it gives him a slight 'Churchill' vibe. As for the smell, while American cigarettes are mostly shit, if you buy the right ones at the right places, cigarettes and cigars can actually smell quite nice. It mostly comes down to the spices they cut them with. I don't really smoke, but a friend of mine's a minor aficionado.**

 **TigerJacob: ROTBP was an early inspiration for this fic—less for its plot and more for the fact that it completely threw out the CG plot and went its own direction, which was what I wanted to do with this fic. Warfare on a global scale, cunning ploys, airships full of mechs in the sky, the sort of bombastic shit I read books like Warhammer 40k for. You encapsulated what I'm going for quite well in your reviews, so let me just say thanks for reading! Hope I don't disappoint!**

 **Guest: TBH, I'm not a history major or anything, so I didn't have time to delve into things like exactly how the modern European states were formed. With the exception of Africa, they're almost universally the same as modern day, just for different reasons.**

 **See you next time folks! Neolyph, signing out.**


	20. Chapter 2: God of Clay

**Act 2**

 _Ave Imperator_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: God of Clay**

 _"Breaking News: **AFRICAN COUNTER-** **INVASION BEGINS—UNION FORCES LIBERATE TANGIERS**_

 _August 2, 2028_

 _During the early hours of yesterday morning, the 1st Union Airborne Division under the leadership of Grand Marshal and Emperor Zero of Neo-Japan launched a lightning-fast assault on the Spanish North African port city of Tangiers—retaking it from the insurgent forces in a matter of hours despite its staggering defenses. FPA casualties are unconfirmed, though unofficial reports estimate them to be well over five thousand, while the Airborne put their own losses at a shockingly low twenty-nine. In addition, a pursuing Airborne force consisting solely of a single armored regiment and a handful of specialized KMF frames eliminated an entire retreating FPA armored_ _division_ _; composed of well over five hundred Britannian-supplied tanks and support vehicles._

[ _Stable, overhead footage plays of a tight tank formation being systematically torn apart by a dive-bombing swarm of flying Knightmares with lances—along with a single red frame eliminating dozens at a time by itself_ ]

 _With a beachhead secured, Union Army and Naval forces were free to land and secure the city itself—greeted as heroes by the native population who had suffered under the boot-heels of those who claim to protect them._

[ _Footage of smiling soldiers parading through dingy, but once-gleaming streets of Tangiers as native and ethnically-mixed civilians cheer from sidewalks and overlooking rooftops. A single woman breaks through the cordon and kisses a stunned serviceman full on the mouth as his comrades cheer around him._ ]

 _When pressed for comment by embedded AD-News reporters, Marshal Gene Smilas had this to say: 'This was undoubtedly the most successful operation I have seen in my entire military career. Unfortunately for me, however, I must place the credit squarely on the shoulders of Emperor Zero. Both his strategic insights and the Airborne, who he constructed almost entirely with personal funding and technology developed by Neo-Japanese researchers, were absolutely instrumental in this operation. Without the two, I cannot even speculate on the amount of casualties the FPA would have inflicted before breaking.'_

 _Well, how could we hear a glowing commendation like that and not get a word from the mysterious ruler himself?_

[ _A featureless black mask fills the screen before the camera pans back to reveal its wearer. The enigmatic Emperor Zero is donned in a formal military uniform, complete with gold epaulettes and overcoat draped over his shoulders like a cape. He stands tall with his back to an elevated window overlooking the liberated city of Tangiers. His voice is slightly modulated, but deep and cultured. He speaks flawless French without so much as a hint of accent._ ]

 _'I would like to thank the people of the Union for the immense trust and faith they have placed in me by granting me stewardship of their armed forces. It is for them that I fight this war, so that they and their children might go to bed at night with full bellies and warm homes. So that they need not wait hours in food lines, or have their power rationed when they need it most. Though I can not disclose details for security reasons, I want all hearing this to rest assured: today's overwhelming victory was no fluke. I aim to see our beleaguered countrymen in Southern Africa relieved within the year, and the continent itself returned to law and order within a year past that. The end of your hardships is in sight: all that is required is your continued faith and patience. Thank you._ '

 _While little is known about the masked Emperor Zero, the strategic prowess he displayed in liberating his nation from Britannian tyranny while simultaneously crippling their entire military speaks for itself. Combined with his much-praised leadership in striking the first blow back against the FPA hordes, I can feel only optimism for the fate of the Union in the coming years. AD-News shall continue to keep you updated on this new front in the African Conflict._

 _This has been Ava Schneider, Acta-Diurna News, the Voice for a United Europe, currently embedded with the 1st Union Airborne. Signing off."_

* * *

Leila wasn't sure why she accepted the leaflet from the man distributing them on Paris' narrow streets. Perhaps it had been his words, vowing peace and prosperity for the people of Europe. But shaking her blonde trills she immediately dismissed that. Little policlubs shouted rhetoric like that from the street corners every day. The EU, and Paris in particular, were full of small special-interest factions that constantly warred for donations and supporters to curry influence with the larger main factions.

Yet she had never paid a single one of them more than a passing glance. So why had she stopped long enough to accept a small pamphlet from the barker?

Wondering if she might glean some answers from it, she took a seat at the sidewalk cafe that had been her original destination and examined the handbill. A thin waiter took her offhanded order. Normally he would have politely insisted on seeing some upfront payment, considering the current economic state of most Parisians, but she was a known regular at this particular establishment.

The leaflet was surprisingly high-quality. As African lumber had entirely ceased shipping to Europe around five years ago, thick cardstock like this would have costed a pretty copper when purchased in distribution-level bulk.

Whoever was backing this... she checked the name... Ave Imperator policlub had deep pockets.

Reading the interior, the name's Latin meaning clicked. They were advocating for the establishment of a European Emperor to oversee and manage the international standardization of a number of institutions—such as the military, police, and court systems—while also serving as a figure of unity to soothe the factionalism and feuding that bedeviled the Union.

It made sense in theory, she supposed. Britannia was a true empire and the Chinese Federation were a nominal empire, and in both cases their respective Emperor and Empress served as symbols to rally behind when internal strife threatened stability. That sort of unquestionable center of authority made managing things easier and appealed to the masses.

After all, while the average EU citizen didn't have time to follow every Hemicycle representative, they could keep track of the actions and decrees of a single ruler.

It had worked for Napoleon. When he'd escaped Elba, the soldiers sent by the weak puppet French government to capture him instead raised his flag and welcomed their Emperor home. Backstabbing politics were hard and unappealing. Following an Emperor, good or bad, was easy.

Not to mention standardizing the most critical government services across the whole EU _would_ bring about greater international unity without directly threatening individual sovereignty, so long as the institutions were established as separate from each nations' internal institutions.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the budding intrigue. This was a thinly-veiled power grab and little else. She'd bet her remaining fortune that whoever had purchased this pricey cardstock either conveniently had themselves in mind for the Emperor position, or whoever _their_ patron was. That was how small EU policlubs worked. They hired a few broke twenty-somethings to distribute pamphlets and shout appealing ideology, hoping to reel in a gullible fish with deep enough pockets to fund higher ambitions.

After all, the man who'd handed her the pamphlet had...

Conviction. That was what she'd heard in the man's voice. Genuine belief in what he was saying. But that wasn't necessarily why she'd taken his pamphlet either.

Strong conviction was not completely unique in EU politics, just rare. A handful in the Union carried a sort of _realpolitik_ devotion that in some cases bordered on the fanatical. Their reasoning fell somewhere along the lines of political Darwinism; that whoever could successfully obtain power, regardless of the means, was therefore the most fit to wield it. Might made right, in other words. To be frank the idea sickened her.

This Ave Imperator policlub though... it was almost Romanticist in the way its pamphlet detailed its aims. There _was_ a deep logic and practicality buried within the sweeping text, but it seemed almost secondary the the emotions and high principles contained in the sentiment.

 _That_ was it. The tempered fire she'd seen in the man's _eyes_ before she'd stopped to take his leaflet. Not just conviction, but conviction in the immaterial. Faith. True faith.

The notion... unsettled her. The Union had its fair share of religious denominations—mostly Christian—but she had not seen that kind of political belief since childhood.

Since her father's death at the hand of the Britannians.

Shutting that thought away and locking it behind several mental barricades, she once more considered the handbill. She had half a mind to toss it away and never think about it again, if only to avoid stirring up bad memories, but the cursed idealistic part of her brain, the side from her father, nagged at her like a buzzing fly she couldn't rid herself of. Her eyes landed on the pamphlet's backside, where it mentioned that their 'local chapter' met once a week. Tonight, in fact, at a tavern across town.

Her cappuccino and croissant arrived at the table, the soft clattering of plate and cup snapping her out of her contemplation.

What plans had she tonight anyway? Sitting in a bar, feeling sorry for both herself and the world around her? Snorting in a most unladylike manner as she sipped her steaming beverage, she let loose a mental shrug.

Did it really matter which bar she did that in?

* * *

Lelouch spun the map of the African continent currently being displayed on the Holographic Command Terminal—the reported positions of the FPA's thirty-three known divisions visible on it. Ten were squared across Joffre's Line, opposite the seven mixed German-French divisions desperately holding it. Three were positioned in what had once been the Tenere Desert, protecting the FPA's unofficial capitol of New Paris. The rest were arrayed around the continent's perimeter, defending its largest ports.

It had been thirty-four before yesterday, when he'd broken the FPA Spanish-North-African Black Stars' 1st Armored and its attached infantry companies. But with the revelations that came with that, he was forced to reassess his prediction of their responses.

The two nearest divisions were the Black Stars' 2nd Armored to the south in Rabat, and the Black Stars' 5th Armored to the east in Oran, his next target.

Originally he'd thought that both divisions would attempt to simultaneously strike back at Tangiers while his foothold was still new. It's what Carine would have done—and he'd have responded by intercepting the 2nd Armored en-route, killing them to a man from the air, then flying back to pick off the 5th Armored and flying into Oran uncontested.

But with his new knowledge of the FPA?

Stroking his chin, he activated a the HCT's topographic map setting. Assuming the Black Stars had more to them than low cunning... the most strategically-sound move would be to spread the 2nd and 5th Armored across the Atlas Mountains in an attempt to isolate his beachhead until French-Equatorial-African FPA, the Trisaggitis, could send their three garrison divisions up from New Paris.

Five army divisions would normally be something the Airborne could handle easily in open ground, but if they stretched along the densely-forested mountains and avoided grouping up, they stood the potential to be a very annoying—and time-consuming—pest. Probably not their intention, but still a threat to his operation.

He _could_ just ignore them, taking advantage of the 5th Armored's redistribution to swing along the coast and plow through Oran, providing Gene with a secondary beachhead. But if left unaddressed, having a host of enemy tanks, soldiers, artillery, and air units in the mountains above his primary staging area would only lead to trouble.

As far as he knew, there wasn't currently a weapon in existence that truly could threaten his Airborne, but its purpose was to protect and clear a way for the Army. The FPA couldn't harm his forces, but they could deny them one of their two primary objectives. Protect the Army? Or clear the next target? He wouldn't be able to do both here.

Though he found it distasteful, he delved into the cold calculus a general was forced to make during times of strife.

If the FPA tied up the Airborne in the Atlas Mountains, the Army and Navy would likely be forced to take Oran and Algiers by themselves from the sea if momentum was to be conserved. While not as severe as Tangiers, the entire Mediterranean coastline _was_ reinforced, and the Black Stars had divisions protecting the cities. It was a virtual guarantee that both landings would incur at least moderate losses.

On the other hand, Gene was a competent general. If left to his own devices, he should be able to hold Tangiers from any forces preying in the mountains. It wouldn't be until the Mediterranean was secure that the Army would begin properly marching south anyway, so the man would have time to smoke out the divisions before his forces in Tangiers would be needed for anything more than garrison.

He felt a twang of frustration that he couldn't just blitz south along the western coastline, but he knew that there was little point, as attempts over the years to send naval relief to the besieged Colonial Forces had demonstrated.

Though it was completely unofficial, Britannian submarines sank any European ship in the Atlantic south of the Tropic of Cancer or north of the Equator.

Schneizel of course claimed that before the ceasefire and their withdrawal of support from the FPA, they had gifted them a fleet of submarines and munitions. It was an utter farce, of course, considering that the FPA had neither trained sailors nor the facilities to maintain a submarine fleet, but without hard proof the Hemicycle could not cry foul.

 _Democracy._ Like the 'Communism' that South America had attempted and failed before Britannia's conquest of them, it fell apart the moment the system it governed grew beyond the level of individual accountability. Once you didn't personally know the man your political actions would harm, you could justify his expense at your gain.

He was drawn from his bitter contemplation by a knock on his office door. It opened a second later, with Sancia escorting Kallen inside.

Ah. That was another irritation to add on the pile. His Ace pilot had sparked off a fight with Cornelia's men. Said princess and second-in-command had given him quite the earful about his need to reign Kallen in, and unfortunately he was inclined to agree with her—regardless that the fracas had been started in his defense.

"Leave us," he ordered Sancia strictly. It would be best to set the mood for this conversation right of the bat. His bodyguard dipped a bow, departing from the room as Kallen's face turned fearful before she schooled it. Good. She'd been expecting this, but knew enough to control herself. At least _some_ of his political lessons had stuck with her.

"Sit."

It was not a request. The redhead power-walked to the chair before his work desk, barely-contained terror oozing from her every pore. Understandable. This was perhaps the first time he'd ever been truly angry with her.

He stepped away from the central HCT and past the desk—facing the large one-way window that provided its backdrop. Deliberately ignoring the anxious Kallen, he removed his helmet and placed it to the side before lighting a cigarette from his pocket case. He waited until it was around three-quarters through before finally speaking to his rash subordinate, who fortunately had possessed enough sense not to speak during the entire wait.

"You know why you're here," he said simply, still facing the window.

There was a shuffle of hair that he presumed to be a nod and a whispered, ' _Yes._ '

"Fulcrum is an island, Kallen. The world as it is would not understand us for what we are. Only the initiated can see clearly, and thus we must treat all initiated as brothers and sisters. You understand this, yes?"

Another shaky nod.

"We stand alone against the world. If there is not absolute trust between the members, the house of cards we have so delicately built over the years will crumble in an instant."

 _That_ finally drew a retort from Kallen. "But they _don't_ trust you, Master! They and Guilford, they question and doubt you at every turn! If Cornelia gave the word, they'd strangle you in your sleep!"

He turned towards her. She was quite impassioned about this. There were angry tears in the corners of her eyes, and her face was a visage of offended fury.

"And if I gave Sayoko the word, she would do the same to you Kallen, and you would her. But you trust her, do you not? I know that she trusts you. Sir Guilford and the Darlton brothers are men of ironclad loyalty, Kallen. Just like yourself and the other members of Fulcrum. The only difference is that theirs is to Cornelia. They are right to be wary of me. If tomorrow I was kidnapped by one of my Britannian siblings and suddenly decided to join their cause as a subordinate, would you not be skeptical of them?"

She hesitated, an argument stalled on her lips. "I would," she mumbled petulantly.

"And if you truly, _deeply_ believed that they would lead me to ruin, be honest: what would your response be?"

Her eyes closed. "I'd gather Sayoko, Jeremiah, and the Irregulars, and kill whoever was threatening you. Even if you were furious with me, so long as you lived it would be worth it."

He smiled softly, the process of logic complete. "Yet no such attempt has been made by Guilford and the Jovian Knights. They certainly don't _like_ it, but deep down even they acknowledge the merit of both myself and my plan. If they truly though me ruinous, they wouldn't be obeying my proxy orders. The more they doubt, and the more they're proven wrong, the closer their proxy loyalty will become to genuine. But when they're given an excuse to hold a grievance like you gave them yesterday..."

Kallen gulped, the full weight of her mistake bearing down on her. It wouldn't be good. She'd not only dirtied their reputation with her, but also Master Lelouch through both her outspoken loyalty to him and her actions in defense of him.

Dropping from her seat to the floor, she knelt in a _dogeza_ before his desk—forehead pressed to the floor in the ultimate Japanese symbol of contrition.

"How can I make this right?"

"You can start by going to the Jovian Knights' quarters and apologizing in that manner to _them_ , for your crude words, disrespect of their superior, and insult to their loyalty. You will accept any punishment they or Cornelia deem fit to mete out, then return to me for _my_ punishment of you for your disobeying my orders not to provoke Cornelia's men. Dismissed."

The redhead gulped once more, before rising and meekly shuffling from the office.

Lelouch ashed the remainder of his cigarette, and checked his work console. Provided Cornelia had done her part, that situation should resolve itself shortly. Now what fire needed put out next?

* * *

A red-faced Kallen marched from her Master's office through the restricted upper decks of the Damocles. The Jovian Knights were housed in a set of guest cabins adjacent to Cornelia and Euphemia's rooms.

Part of her had burned in fury at Master Lelouch upbraiding her for defending him, despite the knowledge that no matter what he was right, but as always he'd backed it up with infuriatingly unquestionable logic. She often wondered what it was like in the his mind. All cold and shiny, she imagined, all blued steel and icicles and little wheels clicking along like a huge clock. The kind of mind that planned world conquest before its body could even grow facial hair.

Reaching the center door for the Jovian quarters, she paused and took a calming breath—swearing to control herself no matter how this apology went. Then she knocked.

"Come in!" called Alfred's muffled voice from the other side.

Slowly, she entered into a central communal room that had been specially refitted for the Jovian Knights. All five of them were arrayed around it, most making use of the various workout equipment that filled the far wall. Claudio paused mid-bench to glare at her—and Alfred who was spotting him nearly dropped the bar in his sudden anger.

"What do you want?" spat Bart as he set his dumbbells to the side. David, she noticed, immediately stood from the couch and took up a position cutting her off from the door.

Sighing softly, she pretended it was Master Lelouch before her and assumed the same _dogeza_ she had in his office. "I've come to apologize for my crude words, disrespect of your Princess, and insult to the loyalty you bear for her. I humbly beg your forgiveness, and will submit myself to any penance yourselves or Princess Cornelia would care to give me."

She couldn't see any of their faces from her position, so she could only hope that one of them wasn't queuing up for a kick at her ribs.

"Those are Lelouch's words, aren't they?" asked Bart after a long moment.

Her initial instinct was to lie, but she was here to make nice. Sitting up, she surveyed the brothers before her. "They were. He called me to his office, chewed me out, explained why I was wrong, and then sent me here to deliver that apology. I do mean it though, much as it pains me."

The corner of Alfred's mouth twitched. "Let me guess: he said something along the lines of 'they are loyal to Princess Cornelia, as you are loyal to me. Were the tables turned, would you not have acted the same?'"

Kallen blinked. "How did you know that?"

The blonde burst out laughing, as did his brothers after a moment. A great deal of tension eased out of the room.

"Princess Cornelia pulled us into _her_ office about an hour ago and gave us much the same speech. Tore Claudio a new hole in his arse for throwing the first punch at you, and from behind at that."

Said brother rubbed the back of his head. "She ended it with an order to go apologize to you. I was still a bit heated about the whole thing, to be honest, so we were working it off in here beforehand when you walked in. Might as well get it over with though."

Claudio stood before her, and his brothers flanked him as they bowed slightly at the waist and lowered their eyes to the floor. They spoke in unison.

"We apologize for our dishonorable attack on your person, distrust of your Master, and insult to the loyalty you bear for him. We humbly beg your forgiveness, and will submit ourselves to any penance yourself or your Master would care to give us."

Kallen frowned as she tentatively sat down on the couch while the brothers straightened.

"Accepted. It was mostly my fault anyway. What do you think they had in mind for 'penance' though? It's pretty clear that they cooked this up together to make us get along better, so they must have something in mind for that if they both included that phrasing. Should we ask them?"

Edgar shook his head. "Probably not. Were I to take a rough guess, I think they want us to do something cooperative together, or they'll punish us both to build camaraderie. It's what dad used to do when we'd fight as kids."

The room pondered that for several long moments, before Alfred glanced in her direction, sizing her up. "I saw you fight in that red Knightmare of yours yesterday. The Guren MK-IV, right? Impressive machine, what with the way it tore through those poor FPA tanks. Eight-Gen in fact, if I remember the qualifications for that correctly. Its specs programmed into the simulators?"

"Not exactly," she said slowly, catching on to his idea. "It doesn't use standard KMF controls, so they had to build a special simulator for it. It's onboard though."

He grinned viciously. "Then I suggest we settle this in the ring. Five-on-one, loser gets penance from the other's boss. Fair?"

Smiling on the inside despite herself, Kallen grasped his outstretched hand. If nothing else, thrashing them with the Guren would ease her anger over the situation.

"Fair."

* * *

The streets of Paris served as a perfect little microcosm for the EU as a whole, thought Leila as she made her way to the White Orchard. Even this late in the evening, haggard citizens and refugees stood in lines outside ration centers, waiting for the promised food to arrive. She reflected that she could have been in that line as well, had she not escaped England before its annexation with a French stock portfolio, before earning French citizenship through the standard four years of military service.

But there was nothing to be done for these people. Africa had fallen into the hands of the 'FPA', stripping Europe of its breadbasket. Its individual nations were scrambling to find some alternative, but the Hemicycle was far too meek to introduce the strict measures necessary to bring about self-sufficiency.

It often infuriated her how willfully blind the Vox and Pax could be. The former, in their righteous pursuit of 'liberty' and 'independence', would see the Union reduced to a loose affiliation of nations, prime for swallowing by the Chinese or Britannians. The latter would see the Union brought closer together, but also irrevocably tied to democratic pandering and special-interest politics.

The weight of her former service sidearm on her hip comforted her as she eyed the more unsavory characters lurking just off the main streets—some sizing up her purse, others her figure.

She'd achieved the rank of Captain during her four year enlistment, which was especially impressive considering the French army's infamous reputation of slow advancement and distaste for foreigners—and that she'd survived at all in the infamous French Foreign Legions was an outright miracle. But she'd been raised to be a British Countess, and that included a large portion of military literature that had served her well as an officer.

Unfortunately, her father's tutelage had also instilled her with an unbreakable sense of _noblesse oblige_.

And when combined with her impotence towards the state of the EU around her, that sense of duty turned to cynicism and drinking. The unshakable sense that it was your task by birth to aid the people around you, but knowing that there was nothing you could do for them, was a damning psychological tic.

The only avenue for change was politics, which weren't really an option. If she wasn't to sell her soul to the Pax or Vox, there were only two choices. Either she put her funds into running independently and _maybe_ ended up with a seat on some local council that would bleed her dry financially, or she attempted to support a policlub and became one of the naive big fish they were always attempting to sucker in.

Hence, her resolution that no matter how intoxicated she got tonight, her checkbook would be remaining in her purse.

She reached the end of the street, and double-checked the address on the pamphlet with the map displayed on her phone. The God of Clay was a tall French tavern on the far end of one of Paris' many commercial districts. It stood like a defiant stone jutting from the sea of shuttered storefronts around it, glowing with cheer and music from within.

Sandwiched between a dilapidated tailor's shop on one side, and a boarded-up department store on the other, the building's overall lack of disrepair despite its obvious age spoke to someone caring deeply for it. It looked the sort of business that had been passed down from father-to-son for generations, standing as a testament to the family better than any scrapbook or reunion photo could.

The name's meaning eluded her until her classical lessons kicked in and she remembered Lord Byron's nickname for Emperor Napoleon in _Don Juan_. More Romanticism and more Emperors.

Given the policlub's platform, using this establishment as their meeting place was a tad on the nose, in her opinion, but then again most people wouldn't have gotten the reference.

As she approached the door, she noticed a sandwich board propped up beside it.

 _"Reserved for private event tonight_

 **Welcome, Ave Imperator members and interested newcomers!** "

Well, she was, she supposed, an 'interested newcomer'. She opened the door and stepped inside. Almost immediately she was blinded with golden light and the roar of lively customers. She blinked a few times, before finally realizing the source of the glare. The tavern's entire interior was done up in a shining brass and somber red decor, which sharply reflected its many lights at first glance.

Immediately, she was surprised at how crowed it was. Maybe a hundred patrons filled up the large, open first floor, with maybe another forty occupying the second-floor balcony ringing it. A small jazz band played a spirited number from their stage near the door, and the air was almost hazy with cigarette smoke.

A bald, well-muscled man in a black undershirt stood at her arrival from the chair he'd been nursing a beer in. The policlub bouncer, most likely. It wasn't out of place for some of the more competitive policlubs to send a few bruisers to rivals' meetings to cause a disruption—so the smarter ones would employ security.

"Welcome to the God of Clay, _mademoiselle_ ," he greeted politely. "Here for the meeting tonight?"

She shrugged and smiled, holding up the leaflet. "More for a drink, I must confess, but I suppose you could call me 'interested'."

"We get a lot of those from newcomers," he chuckled. "Well, main floor's mostly full, but there's still room upstairs. Grab a drink, enjoy yourself, and have a chat with some of the other 'interested' folks. You're actually quite lucky to have come tonight. We've a special guest speaker coming on in about half an hour."

"Oh?" she said. "Anyone I'd know?"

"Party founder, George Price."

She blinked, nonplussed. "The founder is a special guest?" When the average Parisian policlub consisted of maybe thirty members, it was usually the club founder speaking every single meeting to keep it alive.

The bouncer seemed to understand her confusion. "We're not a policlub, miss. We're a small international party. Mr. Price founded us in Moscow, actually, then did a tour in a number of EU nations. We have chapters in Russia, Germany, Sweden, Poland, Spain, Italy, Neo-Japan, and now France. Only about seventy thousand due-paying members across the EU, but that's about to change soon."

Leila nearly gawked at the figure. _Seventy thousand members? No wonder they had the money for that cardstock!_

"Anyway," said the bouncer, "after founding this chapter in Paris two months ago, Mr. Price toured the rest of France and founded a few more local chapters. He'll be delivering one last speech here tonight before continuing his tour through Spain and Portugal."

"If you have seventy thousand members, how have I never even heard of you?"

The man looked side to side, then leaned in conspiratorially. "I'd like this kept discrete, miss, but it's pretty common practice for the Vox and Pax to squish developing parties before they get too big. That's why, rather than set up deep in one nation, Price went thin through a bunch of them. Because national EU intelligence agencies don't share information, you see, we look much smaller than we actually are. A few days from now, however, we'll be so big they _can't_ discretely wipe us out."

That... _did_ make a lot of sense. The Union had no real third party. It was the Pax, the Vox, or a policlub. "What's happening in a few days?"

"Now that I can't tell you," he said, tapping his nose. "Don't even know much myself, just that we should be prepared for all-hands-on-deck recruitment by next week."

A group of Frenchmen walked in at this point, but the apparently-familiar bouncer just waved them through without question. He turned back to her before his gaze paused on something.

"The pistol," he asked, pointing at the holstered gun partially hidden by her overcoat, "Beretta 96, right? Officer-issue. You served?"

She nodded. "Captain Malcal, Third Foreign Legion. I'm British, in case you were wondering."

Eyes widening sympathetically, the man chopped a quick salute—despite its technical unnecessity due to neither of them being active duty nor uniformed. "Private Dubois, Eighty-Eighth Infantry. I guess you fled the annexation, then? Ended up a refugee?"

" _Bastards_ ," she swore hotly in English. She didn't usually talk about these things, but something in this man's demeanor just dragged it out of her.

"My father was a Count, descended from the nobles that honorably surrendered to Napoleon when he came to the Isles and were allowed to keep their titles. Britannian 'Liberation Army' hanged him as a 'Francophile traitor' when he refused to renounce the oath of allegiance our family took to Napoleon and the Union. We'd been treated far better under French rule than William IV's, and the loyalty passed down."

"My grandmother's Scottish," said Dubois bitterly. "Haven't heard a word from her since the annexation. Rumor is Scotland got the unofficial Number treatment when they refused to bend the knee to Charles."

Leila snorted darkly. "Wasn't just the Scots. Irish got it too, as did any commoners dubbed 'Francophiles'. After my father was hanged, my mother sent my sister and I across the Channel. Britannian patrol ship spotted us and shot up the raft. I managed the swim to shore. My little sister didn't."

The bouncer laid a consoling hand on her shoulder, his eyes hardening in anger.

"I don't want to turn sympathy into a spiel, so this is genuine advice: if you're like me and want a shot at making at making the Britannians hurt, this is the party for you. If there's one thing that Emperor Zero in the Hemicycle's got right, it's a hard fucking stance against that Britannian scum. Even some talk going around about nominating him for the Emperor position once we get the vote before the Hemicycle, what with the news today."

"News?" she asked, confused. Most of this morning and afternoon she'd spent babysitting her stock portfolio—during which she turned off the television so it didn't interrupt her concentration.

"You haven't heard?" demanded the bouncer in shock. When she shook her head, he pressed a hand to her back and guided her over to the bar. A stool was made available for her without even asking. "It's been playing all day. I think they even drummed up a celebration along the Champs-Élysées a few hours ago. Luc, flip on AD."

The mustachioed bartender silently turned the TV station to AD-News, where they were just leading into another retelling of the morning's news—interspersed with commentary from some talking heads. Every eye along the bar was instantly drawn to the screen, despite most having apparently seen it already.

Leila was awestruck. A full on counter-invasion of Africa? With _twenty-nine losses_ during the initial landings? When the 3rd Legion had been sent on a peacekeeping mission to the Middle-Eastern Federation's Palestinian region, they'd lost over two-thousand before even setting foot on the beaches when the insurgent Islamic forces began firing commandeered rocket artillery on the landing boats. Granted, French commanders treated the Foreign Legions like cannon fodder, but the number was still outrageous.

Shit, if even a man like Gene Smilas was singing Zero's praises, the man just _might_ be a good candidate for Emperor of Europe.

The barkeep slid a martini before her. "On the house, miss. I needed a drink too after seeing that story this morning."

Dazedly, she sipped the drink—eyes glued to the screen. And while the idea of a KMF regiment wiping out a tank division was more believable, as the Britannians had proven time and time again, the footage itself still nearly caused her to choke when she saw that one red Knightmare in action.

 _And 'Knightmare' is the perfect word for it. That thing's a demon!_

A year and a half, Zero had promised, to bring all of Africa back under the EU and put down the insurgents that to this day had South Africa under nonstop siege.

It was an absurd promise, and yet between his implacable mask and steady voice, Leila couldn't detect a hint of doubt from Zero's words. The man was either devastatingly arrogant, or supremely confident. Given yesterday's success and his record against the Britannians, oddly enough she was actually inclined to believe the latter. She could see why the Neo-Japanese had named the man their Emperor.

 _A mysterious, black-masked Emperor set out on a path of conquest with his flying army. If that's not a bloody Romantic story, I didn't know what is._

She wasn't sure how much longer she watched the story coverage, only that she was drawn from it by a sudden hush falling over most of the tavern. A few, either too tipsy or unaware of the cause, kept talking before they were elbowed into silence by their neighbors. Luc muted the TV and turned expectantly upwards.

Leila followed his gaze, settling on the far railing of the second floor, which was clear of patrons. In its position, it formed an effective balcony over the main floor.

A man was standing on it.

He had blonde hair, worn in a long ponytail, as well as bangs that protruded and hung to the side of his face. His face was strong, with a protruding cleft jaw—and he was attired in a carmine turtleneck under a black suit.

But what struck Leila most were his eyes. They were the same as that barker on the streetcorner's. There was no identifiable detail that conveyed it, but they were the fiery eyes of a believer.

She finished the remainder of her drink in a quick gulp, then focused her attention on the man.

"I must say," the man began with an amused voice, "there are quite a few more of you here than my last visit."

A low chuckle echoed through the tavern, but instantly fell silent the second his mouth opened again.

"Do you wonder why that is? Why the message of the Ave Imperator party endures even when its driving members such as myself are absent across the country? I tell you now: because every man and woman in this room who's heard it has acknowledged, silently or aloud, that it. is. _right_."

Leila was surprised at the amplitude of the cheer that sounded off.

"Because the need for unity in Europe is one that all but the most willfully blind of our people have agreed on, and the solution equally obvious to all, but unpalatable to those without the Union's interests at heart. At one point in time, Europe stood at the threshold of greatness; our military influence stretched the breadth of the world, our technology was an unrivaled marvel, and our coffers without match. Do you all know when that was?"

Some heads shook.

"The day before Emperor Napoleon was assassinated by the so-called 'Guardians of Liberty'—who then proceeded to tear down everything he had built. The very unity of Europia _United_ was shattered. Less than a century later, the entire continent was at war with _itself_ over half the Hemicycle attempting to exert selfish power over the other half. Sound like a familiar state of affairs?"

Another affirmative cheer. Leila wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but the words were agreeing with her.

"My friends, what I and the Ave Imperator party have to say is this: the 'Democratic Experiment' has reached its inevitable conclusion. _Failure_. We gave it a fair try, and it has ended in starvation, factionalism, and a superpower on our doorstep ready to turn us into Numbers—as it already would have done were it not for the intervention of a foreign Emperor, who, upon joining the Union, is currently one of the few doing anything to save us all from oblivion. The world has moved on without us, as we buried our heads into the sand and espoused the 'virtues' of our failing government."

His face turned grim. "If we are to survive as a people, a return to form is in order. In the now-famous rallying cry of Lord Garcia in the Hemicycle, he said, 'The barbarians are at the gates. We need a general, not an ambassador.' I will go a step further and say this: the _world_ is on our shores. We need an _Emperor_ , not an _assembly_!"

Surprisingly to even herself, Leila cheered along with the crowd. She _really_ wanted this to be the alcohol, not her.

"The FPA! The Britannians! The Chinese! All would see us either enslaved or destroyed! A war has come, my friends, not against tyranny, oppression, or persecution, but against our _annihilation_ as a people! If the Union is to survive, it must become true to its namesake. We must achieve the future for Europe that Emperor Napoleon envisioned and was cruelly cut down before he could bring about! One nation! One people! One Emperor!"

"One nation! One people! One Emperor!" shouted back the crowd.

" _One nation! One people! One Emperor!_ " yelled Price, his voice cutting through the din like a cannon.

 **"One nation! One people! One Emperor!** " they shouted once more, shaking the tavern with their volume. Leila found herself shouting it along with them. A small clattering to the left drew her attention, and she saw a small object on the floor. It was about the size of cigarette pack, and squinting through the cigarette smoke she saw...

"One nation! One people! One Emp—"

There was a series of loud cracks, like gunshots. Blinding black smoke filled the room as the fireworks went off. Panicked and tipsy patrons stumbled towards the door, where a number of hulking masked brutes stormed in—wielding truncheons.

" _Sic semper tyrannis!_ " cried one of them, braining the first patron that tried running past him. Dubois, the bouncer, spun around from the bar, drew his own club, and brought it down on the skull of the nearest intruder. He dropped like a boneless marionette, the former private stepping over him to hit the next one. Another swing brought that one down too, before the remaining five turned to confront him.

Strike that, remaining _six._ An unseen disruptor crept up on Dubois' back while he squared off against the other five. The glint of a knife caught Leila's eye.

Shit. "Dubois!" she cried desperately in warning, but between the din of firecrackers and screaming patrons it went unheard. The sixth man raised his knife upwards.

The weight of her Beretta reminded her that she'd instinctively drawn it the moment she'd heard what sounded like gunshots. Without even thinking it through, seeing only a fellow soldier in danger, she raised it and put two rounds squarely in the knife-wielder's spine.

He collapsed in a bleeding pile, nearly knocking Dubois over. At seeing their comrade fall, the remaining five turned, saw her smoking pistol, and fled.

Patrons continued to flee as the tavern still filled with smoke, but Leila knew that the danger was over. Clicking the safety of her sidearm back on, she holstered it and surveyed the scene. Two unconscious, masked intruders; six unconscious Ave Imperator supporters; and one... dead body. To which she was currently holding the murder weapon.

God. Forget donations, she'd just _killed_ a man.

Dubois trotted over, and seemed to read her line of thinking. Perceptive, that one. "Captain Malcal," he said in a soldier's tone that snapped her attention to him. "He was armed with a knife. He was about to stab me in the back. He had eight armed friends with him, who you were helping to defend me from. Legally, you're in the clear."

"Until they run my Ident-card and see that I'm a refugee. Only reason I'm not in one of the camps is because I let their government spend four years trying to get me killed."

"I'll back your story. Anyone else who saw it will too."

She shook her head, terror running through her veins. Run-ins with the French police in the past had given her a very good idea of how they operated. "Chaotic scene like this? They'll be able to justify ignoring any testimony. Once they get me in a squad car, they'll either beat me half-dead and dump me in Seine, or railroad me through a courtroom with an anti-immigration judge. Either way, one less refugee on the streets as far as they're concerned."

"Shit..." said Dubois numbly. "Run, then. Out the back. No gun, no shooter, they can't prove anything."

Leila nodded, already hearing sirens in the distance. She spun on her heel and ran face-first into Mr. Price's chest.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance?" he offered. Gesturing to the stern-faced man on his left, he continued. "I'd hate to see a young lady such as yourself troubled for defending a member of my party. My associate here has experience dealing with law enforcement. If you will place a bit of faith in us, I'm absolutely certain that we'll be able to resolve this situation on your behalf."

The sirens halted right outside the door. Damn, she no longer had a choice. "Please, Mr. Price. If you did so, I'd owe you the rest of my life."

"Not a problem at all, my dear," he said politely. Four policemen burst through the front, pistols drawn. They eyed the body, and demanded everybody's hands up. Three of them proceeded to handcuff herself, Dubois, Price, and his assistant, while the fourth swept the upper floor.

"Gun here," said the cop patting her down—far more handsy than necessary—as he drew the Beretta from her hip and placed it on the bar.

Price finally spoke up. "Officers, if my associate and I might speak with you privately, I can explain this whole matter to your satisfaction."

"Fine," barked the overweight policeman who seemed to be in charge. He motioned to one of the others, who dragged Price and his unnamed associate over to a booth and began questioning them. Leila's eyes stayed glued to them, desperately wishing that she could read lips.

The cop asked Price something, he replied, then his associate said something and the cop's stiff shoulders seemed to relax slightly. He called the other two over. Price's assistant repeated the words, and they had the same reaction. When the fourth officer finished his sweep and walked back in, they brought him over, the assistant spoke quietly to him, and he relaxed as well.

Then he just uncuffed the two, walked over to herself and Dubois, uncuffed the two of them as well, handed her the Beretta back, and wished them a good night.

It was... surreal. She'd been expecting Price to sell her out, or maybe have his associate loudly threaten the officers with lawsuits or perhaps slip them a quiet bribe. But there had been a shooting and whatever he'd said kept them from even _questioning_ her. They hadn't even seemed _angry_ about it.

Several ambulances arrived to cart away the injured. The remaining two living intruders were handcuffed and roughly dragged out to the squad car once the medics assessed that they didn't required hospitalization.

Awkwardly, she approached Price and his assistant. "What the hell did you two _say_ to them?"

The assistant smiled. "I merely explained the situation to the best of my abilities. The policemen in this borough are... shall we say... _sympathetic_ to our cause. Once I established that your actions were in defense of a party member, they were more than happy to settle the matter without further inquiry."

That wasn't what it had looked like to her. Those cops hadn't seemed to have any idea who Price or his assistant were, and had handcuffed them like everybody else.

But she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She bowed at the waist to Price and his associate. "Well, you have my eternal gratitude for resolving that on my behalf. If there's nothing else, I believe that I should be heading home before curfew. Wouldn't want another run-in with the police tonight without my guardian angels on standby."

The pair chuckled, before Price held a hand up. "I wouldn't wish to delay you any longer tonight, but might I ask if you are currently employed?"

"Not precisely, no," she answered carefully. "I manage a stock portfolio and essentially live off the interest. It's risky, especially with the economy as it is, but it lets me live in relative comfort. Why?"

Price extended his hand, a card pinched between his fingers. "I have a job opening that I need filled, and if what I've seen tonight rings true, you may be the woman for it. While I don't hold you to a debt for tonight, if you feel that one exists, I'd ask that you call on me tomorrow at the Ritz and hear my offer. Any time you've available, just ask for Mr. Price at the front desk and they'll send you up. Good night, Lady Malcal."

He then stepped past her and out the door, leaving his card in her stunned fingers. Her eyes followed him out the door as his associate opened the door of a waiting car and escorted him inside it.

 _'Lady Malcal'_ he'd called her. She hadn't told him that she was British nobility—or even her _name_ for that matter. Who... who the hell _was_ Mr. Price?

She was drawn away by Dubois seizing her outstretched hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "I owe you my life, Captain. You ever need my help for anything, it's yours. Marcus Dubois."

He didn't have his own card, but he proceeded to scribble down his name and number on a napkin.

"Curfew's going to be coming up pretty soon. You need a ride home?"

Placing both items in her purse, she shook her head. "No thank you. Its only a short walk, and I think I need it to clear my head after all that. I hope the next meeting here isn't as lively."

He grinned sideways at her, a hint of flirtation entering his voice. "That mean I can expect to see you here next week then?"

Well that hadn't been her meaning, but now that she thought about it... the words spoken in the meeting had given her hope for the future for the first time since Britannia's annexation of her home. Maybe she would be back. "Depends on whether or not my outfit clashes with my sidearm, because you know I'm not leaving it at home," she teased back.

"Stainless steel goes well with everything, and the leather holster's a nice touch. _Sure_ you don't need that ride home?"

She clucked disapprovingly. "Hitting on a girl through her gun. Not the smartest private in the platoon, were you?"

"Fortune favors the bold."

"Not tonight it doesn't. Next time though... we'll see how it goes."

With that promise hanging in the air, she turned on her heel and stepped into the darkening Parisian streets, her mind a flurry of futile attempts to make sense of the day's events.

* * *

As Reid's car drove away, he smiled excitedly to himself. A British noblewoman who'd fled the island after its annexation, then enlisted in the French army and made Captain. After one of the Shadows assigned to him by Master Lelouch had briefed him on her identity, he'd kept a subtle eye on her during his speech. She'd been receptive—v _ery_ receptive. And after she'd shot a man to death in defense of a party member, followed by Mr. Lupin saving her from the police, she felt indebted to him.

If she could be persuaded, then she could very well be the one he needed. If not... there was always Mr. Lupin.

But while convenient in regards to Captain Malcal, that unplanned interruption had also most likely scared off a few potential recruits. Based on the slogan they'd shouted before their attack, they were likely sent by one of the 'liberty' policlubs. He'd have to find out which one and make an example of them before he left the city, or they'd threaten the party in his absence.

So much for going back to the hotel for a quiet night of planning and networking. He rapped the divider between the backseat and driver's, and after a second it opened.

"Driver, take me to the local police lockup. Mr. Lupin and I have some questions for our uninvited guests."

* * *

[ _End Chapter_ ]

* * *

 **Alright readers, welcome back to Darwin: Act 2! Neolyph here! So with this chapter I'm largely attempting to set up the intro for the European front.**

 **I'm just going to put it here and explain myself as best I can before other people notice and start putting it in reviews: I'm sort of basing the rise of Ave Imperators and Lelouch's actions in Europe on Hitler's. Not because I agree with his ideology in any way, but simply because he's the most modern and well-documented case I could find of a single figure essentially coming from nothing and establishing himself as the singular, absolute ruler of a world superpower. Thus, when trying to create a realistic-feeling framework for that sort of political movement, it helps to consult an example that technically worked, regardless of its ideology or end-state. While it feels atrocious writing this statement, Lelouch is essentially trying to be a benevolent Hitler of Europe, minus racism and Aryanism. I'm a part-time history student, so I endeavor to look at history with the most objective eye possible and separate the good and bad qualities from various historical figures and movements—regardless of the context or balance of said qualities.**

 **You will also likely notice some symbology come into use that is often associated with the Nazi party. Once again, this usage is not due to any support for said party, but because Hitler also somewhat fancied himself the future Emperor of Europe—and stole a literal ass-ton of Roman symbols for use in his party. Even the classic 'Nazi salute' is adapted from the 'Roman salute' (though technically Mussolini actually used it before Hitler). If there were ever an attempt to create a modern Roman Empire of sorts, as Lelouch is attempting to do in this story, its symbols would look a hell of a lot like the Nazis', because they stole all the best ones. For example, the flag I intend to eventually use for Lelouch's global empire (I'm basing it on a flag I found on Deviantart. Google Image the phrase 'roman flag eagle' and its about the fourth result by a guy called DeathPwnie), looks essentially like a crossbreed of the Nazi Eagle and the UN flag. It's undeniably a badass flag, and perfectly symbolic of what Lelouch aims to achieve along with fitting his 'Emperor in the sky' shtick, but because the Nazis stole the symbol I have write these two whole text-block paragraphs to disavow that shit as eloquently and rationally as I possibly can.**

 **Sigh. So with that tedious shit out of the way, half of which was just me letting off steam about finding out that the fucking Nazis stole all of Lelouch's future symbols, I should probably be getting to reviews.**

 **garoorar: Exactly. Code Geass was a kickass show, but basically I hated the entire second season up until the Zero Requiem, because the battles were just so stupid and poorly planned.**

 **TigerJacob: I hate it when I get a fic update dry spell for like two weeks, then like four update all on the same day. Good to know that I'm hitting the right info/story balance. Writing is a constant knife-edge between providing context for the reader and distracting them with things they could assume or figure out by themselves. I'd like to take credit, but the 'secret herbs and spices' are largely just plotting a rough arc and improvising my way though chapters. To tell a secret, before I got to the bouncer scene in this chapter, I had no idea what the hell I was going to make Leila's backstory or even really what I would use her for. Once I hit a certain point though, most scenes just kind of write themselves, then I edit to keep consistency across the chapter. If it works though, it works.**

 **Lu Bane Na: *coughs awkardly as he exits the tabs on his computer playing _Sabaton_ * Yeah, wouldn't it be terrible if a writer just started playing music and wrote whatever scenes came to mind. How unprofessional.**

 **Akuma-Heika: While at this point its irrelevant, I actually did have a mental reasoning for that in mind. In my fic-verse, Napoleon was fully aware that he was of slightly above-average height. His advisors just relished the opportunity to mock him for his reputation as a borderline midget and he took it on the chin since he thought it was funny.**

 **RandomReview: I think 'usual antics' are the most polite way it could be put. If it helps, I have at least three trip-ups planned for Lelouch in the future that will at least cause him a great deal of distress and lay beyond his ability to immediately fix, one minor and two major. The minor one was foreshadowed a bit in this chapter. My problem with writing tension is that its kind of like writing out a game of chess where you have to play both sides and make it a suspenseful match while both knowing and planning the moves of both sides. Its hard not to make gambits come across as either something the character should have been smart enough to avoid, or so obtuse as to be implausible. The closest I could think of last chapter was Lelouch, still high off winning Japan, attempting to apply the 'Carine' treatment to the FPA and nearly blowing his entire army to smithereens in the process—forcing him to completely reevaluate his take on them and give his ego a check. Given that he's basically an unstoppable badass at this point, what I'll be trying to do is pull the focus back from him somewhat. When Lelouch personally intervenes in a problem, he basically always wins. That's established. So problems are going to start happening where he isn't around. I'm honestly not sure if this will work, but if its a consolation, I'm aware of the problem and trying to fix it. As always, thanks for the critique.**

 **The Insufferable One: The African arc had the most thought put into it, despite this chapter's overall lack of it. And yeah, not really thinking about it I accidentally grouped Marianne in with V.V's contractors. That was where the idea of working Lelouch's accidental matricide into the story came about, because I can't really be bothered to rewrite that chapter when the alternative is workable.**

 **Generation Zero: You've basically worked out the Britannians' side in this, as I detailed slightly in this chapter. They are going to do everything they can to secretly prolong the African Conflict, while collecting all the intelligence they can on Zero and the Airborne so that when the ceasefire is up, they can come down on him like the wrath of God.**

 **Generatedname: What I've essentially done is divide the FPA factions up by strategy, organization, equipment, tenacity, and control. So each district will carry a distinctively different army, some of which will piss the hell out of Lelouch, others of which will be blown away in the first engagement. In a parting from the real world, the Europeans in my fic-verse didn't quite go Apartheid on Africa—more closely governing them as provinces rather than subjugated territories. Their gripe with Europe is less Japanese-Britannians and more American Colonists-British. The FPA are primarily working off of continentalist sentiment, gripes over their lack of national representation in the Hemicycle independent of their parent nations, subtle societal discrimination, and historical injustices. A French-Equitoral-African farm worker, for example, at least nominally had the same rights as the European owner of his farm, but his opportunities for advancement in social-strata were slim to none. On the Wunderwaffen response, I share exactly the same peeve. Standardized, high-tech equipment makes a military feel real. That's why Lelouch's Airborne have the Raptors (essentially 7th gen FLOAT Sutherlands) for the main armored, and the Stormbolts (essentially 7th gen FLOAT Gloucesters). Besides the Guren, those are basically all he has. But I digress, Code Geass really fucked up the second season right until the end.**

 **See you next time, readers! Neolyph, signing off!**


	21. Chapter 3: Decisions

**Act 2**

 _Ave Imperator_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Decisions**

 _"The state of the European Union before the Second Great War for Empire was one of almost suffocating tension and fear. After the Hemicycle approved the Military United Act in November 2026, every man, woman, and child in the Union was forced to recognize that whether they liked it or not, Britannia had come calling and would not be going away. Princess Cornelia's invasion of southern Spain had been their wake-up call, but it was the MUA that killed any naive hope of conciliation. His Majesty's actions in Neo-Japan had bought them six years to prepare, but after that it would be a fight for control of the world—and the loser would not emerge again._

 _So perhaps His Majesty's unannounced invasion of FPA-controlled Africa should have come as no surprise, though it did to most. While recruitment had been high throughout most of the Pax Romanist states, the construction of the Union Military had been hampered at every turn by a lack of raw materials. Without Tsar Alexander opening the previously-closed mines of Siberia to the cause, its creation might have been outright impossible. As it was, everyone in charge of the invasion knew that failure to secure Africa in time to build a force capable of taking on the Britannians would see the war lost before it even began. They could afford no loss of material, nor delay. Such was the need and urgency that even as the Army advanced south, special military work crews followed sometimes mere kilometers from the front lines, bringing abandoned mines back into action or taking control of autonomous farms—squeezing every ounce of production they could before the fated Recommencement Day._

 _Of course, the second they realized what we were doing the FPA started burning their fields behind them and collapsing mineshafts. His Majesty responded by sending an envoy to President Khoza, who very politely explained that while His Majesty was perfectly fine with the FPA defending what they felt was their rightful homeland, for every scorched farm or sabotaged mine he found, a food shipment bound for the native population he liberated would be redirected to Europe. He would acknowledge their grievances, but any acts of spite or resource-denial would come at the expense of the African people first. The attempts stopped shortly after that._

 _Say what you like about the morality of such an action, but His Majesty had an uncanny ability to deduce the motives and levers of his enemies. Unlike some of his more militant generals, Khoza cared more about helping the Africans than hurting the Europeans. Perhaps that sheds some context on the outcome of the OB-Summit—independent of any accusations regarding Prince Schneizel's influence in the affair._

 _Indeed, before His Majesty and Prince Schneizel had their eventual showdown, they indirectly fought tooth-and-nail for dominion in Africa and the Chinese Federation. It was perhaps those two theaters that decided the war's eventual outcome more than any during the actual war itself."_

 _—_ [ _Excerpt from personal memoirs of High Marshal Gene Smilas: 'In His Majesty's Service'. Classified—Eyes Only_ ]

* * *

Gasping for air, Kallen crawled from the simulator pod and nearly collapsed on the floor when her legs unexpectedly wobbled. How many hours had she and Cornelia's men been going at it? It had to have been at least four or five.

She'd thought that even with their own control rigs, she would thrash the Jovians with her Guren. And the first few rounds she'd been correct.

But then they'd started adapting.

Working in near perfect synchronicity, the five brothers managed to form a whole far deadlier than the sum of their parts. Thinking back on it, the last few hours had been the only time she'd ever really been challenged in a Knightmare since the control rig's installment. Or before that, come to mention it. Once they got a handle on her frame's abilities, they began to work out counters for them one at a time.

Her claw, they would a avoid or cripple from range. Its bombardment mode, they would dodge the first shot of, then close to melee before she could cycle the shell. She'd usually manage to knock a few of them out of the match, but the survivors would always take advantage of that to deal the killing blow.

She wanted to place all the credit on their control rigs, but really those just evened the playing field. The brothers were just _that_ damn good.

It was infuriating. One on one, she knew that she could tear any single one of them apart—even in equivalent machines. But she'd gleaned that not only were they all highly-skilled, but that they'd been trained to fight cooperatively for _years_. The Irregulars were the same, she knew, but without their Geass she could defeat even them in the simulators.

The simulator pod next to hers unsealed with the hiss of compressed air being released. Alfred crawled out and flopped down a few feet from her, breathing just as hard. It hadn't occurred to Kallen before, but she now realized the deliberate placement of the Guren's simulator almost adjacent to the Stormbolts' in the _Damocles_ ' private Sim-bay.

A small smile twitched across her lips. Master Lelouch had planned for this somehow, hadn't he? At the very least that they would eventually train together. He might have just used their fight as an opportunity to force it. Christ, were it not for the docks yesterday, she'd think that his immortality had come with omniscience as well.

"Fuck me..." gasped Alfred between breaths. "I don't think we've had a fight like that since... ever, I think."

"Ditto," she wheezed back, swallowing heavily to avoid choking on her own spit before returning to her panting.

Claudio hauled himself out next, followed by Bart, David, and finally Edgar—all soaked in sweat and heaving like they'd just run a triathlon. If nothing else, she could take refuge that she'd pushed them at least as hard as they'd pushed her.

A control rig didn't actually require bodily movement to operate a rigged Knightmare, but the biofeedback they gave made their use a two-way street. After leaping around, diving, and shooting for long enough, you'd get aches and pains despite not having actually moved. Your heartbeat would accelerate, and even damage to the frame would translate into dampened physical pain. Nothing debilitating, but enough to let you know that you'd fucked up.

And she'd taken more than her fair share of damage over the last few hours.

"Well," proposed Edgar, as he lay face-down on the private Sim-bay's floor, "now that we've beaten the shit out of each other for most of an afternoon, what do you say we grab some food and booze from the officer's canteen and bury the hatchet like proper adults?"

Alfred did a sit up into a seated position. "Sounds like a plan to me. Kozuki?"

Kallen considered it for a moment. Like Master Lelouch had said, these boys were essentially just her from the other side. And so long as Cornelia followed Master Lelouch, their interests were one-and-the-same.

And with the prowess she'd just seen... together they would be able to annihilate anything that stood in the New Order's path.

"If we're burying the hatchet, call me Kallen. Just one condition though: if we're not deployed, these spars are going to become a daily thing. Understand?"

"Why Kallen," said Alfred coyly, "you do know how to make a boy blush."

* * *

The White Orchard district's police precinct was small compared to most. And considering the commercial district was mostly abandoned, it had faced large budget cutbacks on top of that. Were it not for the lights inside and the squad cars parked outside, one could well believe that it was abandoned.

While awaiting backup, Reid busied himself with reading through the daily reports sent to him over his PDA. Recruitment was going well, but it wouldn't undergo the necessary upswell until next week, when Tsar Alexander would be making his public statement of support for the party. Having the largest and unaligned nation in the Union suddenly throw its long-standing neutrality away for an unknown party would thrust them into a spotlight they'd never leave.

He'd be on every talkshow in the Union, and every man and woman dissatisfied with the status quo would flock to Master Lelouch's future banner.

It was a wonderfully cyclical snowball effect. His publicity would bring supporters, and his supporters would bring publicity. The simple wonder of a third party with such an unorthodox stance would keep them in the news day after day, keeping their name fresh in the public's eye.

And with the reclusive Tsar Alexander issuing support for them, the Vox would be unable to silence the party like they or the Pax did most. No manufactured scandals would arise, nor would bomb components mysteriously be found when the police raided his headquarters. There would be far too many eyes on his party for that to happen.

The Pax, of course, would issue token resistance, but Kaiser Wilhelm knew his script by heart. He'd wait until Ave recruitment in the Pax nations plateaued, then issue his own statement of support to spice things up. By the time Master Lelouch had Africa in hand well enough to make a return to Europe, all would be in place for the commencement of Operation Imperium.

A soft rumbling and the glare of headlights finally drew his attention from the PDA. He glanced backwards through the car's tinted windows, and saw the van in place.

Stepping out of the car and into the cool Paris night, Reid approached the van's driver door. The Shadow already had it rolled down, though the dim light hid his face.

"Pull through the side alley and park around the back. Be ready ready to receive two uncooperative subjects. Once in hand, take them to Site 6, restrain them, and await my arrival."

The Shadow leaned in slightly, his sunglasses gleaming in the moonlight. "Permission to loosen them up prior to that?"

Reid smiled. He often forgot that many of Master Lelouch's followers were just as... enthusiastic as he. "Indulge yourselves, so long as they're still lucid and conversational once I arrive. And go ahead and prep a burn car to dispose of them when we're done."

"Anywhere specific?"

"Not yet."

Smiling back, the Shadow nodded and pulled the van around to follow his instructions.

Without prompt, Mr. Lupin then stepped from the car and took his usual post at Reid's shoulder. Bodyguard and negotiator in one, the taciturn German Shadow was key to much of Reid's success thus far. With the ability to force commands on anyone whose name he knew, he was perhaps the most versatile agent in Reid's arsenal. Geass, truly an ability gifted by the gods to ensure Master Lelouch's victory.

With confident, casual strides he entered the precinct.

An exhausted-looking woman in an officer's uniform was manning the desk—looking as she'd rather be doing literally anything else—but otherwise the lobby was empty at this hour. Her head didn't even turn towards them as they approached the desk, though her eyes swiveled briefly towards them. In the reflection of her glasses, Reid saw that she was playing Solitaire on her computer.

"Officer Parks?" asked Lupin, reading the name tag on her uniform. Always useful for him, when dealing with low-level officials. The lace of Geass in his voice caused her head to snap up, locking on him almost eagerly.

"Yes, can I help you sir?"

Lupin's expression did not change from his cold, business-like demeanor. "Two suspects were brought in about fifteen minutes ago for assault at the God of Clay tavern, yes?"

"That's correct sir. They're currently in holding."

"Were they processed yet?"

The woman nodded, the stupor of Geass keeping her entranced. "They were. They had no ID on them though, and their prints were not in the system. Captain Martin said to cut them loose once we were done processing them, though the arresting officers have not done so yet."

Of course not. When Reid had Mr. Lupin command the officers, part of that instruction had been to keep the prisoners there until his arrival, no matter what.

Lupin frowned. "Why did the Captain order you to release them?"

"I do not know, sir," said the officer blankly.

"Speculate."

"Captain Martin's not a soft man when executing his job, so for him to order the release of prisoners with pending assault charges, there was likely political pressure involved."

Shit. Lupin met his eyes, and the word passed between them. Whoever sent these thugs had some significant pull them. That complicated things.

Lupin's gaze returned to the spellbound officer. "You will do as your Captain instructed you, and if questioned will testify to that. But you will make absolutely no mention of our visit tonight, and erase all recordings of it. Understand?"

The woman nodded eagerly, already fiddling with her computer. "Yes, sir."

"You will also give us access to holding."

"Yes, sir."

She pressed a button under her desk, giving off a loud buzz and unlocking the door leading to the holding cells. Lupin took the lead, with Reid keeping a step behind his bodyguard just in case.

The line of cells were utterly wretched. Vomit, blood, and other bodily fluids were smeared across the concrete they were constructed from—and they were simply hosed down about once a week from the look of the drains on the floors.

Their wayward thugs were still snoozing in the furthest cell, and their commandeered police were sipping coffee and playing cards at a table in the room's corner.

As soon as they noticed his entrance, they snapped to their feet.

"Sirs," snapped the sergeant, "as instructed, we've kept the suspects here for you. The Captain ordered their release, so technically they're not supposed to still be here. He won't check on the cells until morning, though."

"Good," said Lupin. "Two of you, cuff them and escort them out the back. Several men with a van will greet you, and you will deliver them to their custody. The other two, take me to speak with your Captain. After we part ways, you keep all secret elements of our interaction to yourselves. Understand?"

"Sir!" barked the officers, before moving to fulfill their orders.

Lupin turned to him, the distraction of rapid calculation evident on his face. Eventually, he reached a course of action. "If you would, take the van to Site 6 and begin questioning the prisoners. Until you can get them to give up their names, I won't be much use there anyways. I'll interrogate and wipe the Captain, before taking the car to meet you there and brief you on what I've learned."

"Sounds good," agreed Reid. "And be careful. I don't like the feeling of this whole thing."

"I don't either, but we need a lid on this situation."

Hired bruisers. Corrupt police. Political strings. All of them spelled one thing.

 _Complications._

* * *

Lelouch groaned the last gasp of a dying man as Sayoko's inexplicably delicate hands had their way with his tense back.

"You know pet," he mused, facedown on one of his office's long chaise lounges, "I think you use your Shiatsu training more these days than your Kunoichi."

His spymaster tittered, rubbing her thumb against a knot in _just_ the right way to make it untangle. "Same principles, really. Find stress point, apply precise pressure until it gives. And despite what you may have seen, I _have_ been training the upper echelons of the Frumentarii. My skills are nowhere near out of practice. You should keep an eye on Jeremiah though. I think he's starting to get a bit of a gut."

"With his heightened metabolism?" snorted Lelouch. "He'd need to eat half a granary a day."

Sayoko paused in her reply as she unraveled a particularly lumpy knot. "Have you seen him in the canteen when he's off-duty? In terms of barley, I think he's going through at least two granaries."

"Then have a word with the quartermaster and cut him off."

"You think he'd listen to me?" she snorted. "I'm a delicate, admittedly drop-dead slip of a woman. Gottwald's seven feet, four hundred pounds of muscle, and if Asplund wasn't joking last I talked to him, can now shoot lasers from his eyes."

Lelouch was forced to consider that rebuttal. While the laser eyes bit did sound like the product of Asplund's uniquely dry sense of humor, it also sounded like something Jeremiah just might bully the poor scientist into building for him. Come to think of it... he'd stopped by his knight's quarters several days ago to retrieve him for a meeting and seen a bag of marshmallows on a desk.

"Emphasis on the 'drop-dread'," he opted for instead, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor when it came to Jeremiah's off-duty hobbies.

"You flatterer you," she smirked, smacking his shoulder, though there was definite pleasure in her voice at the compliment. He noted a tone of sensuality enter her movements on his back.

The even tone of C.C's voice wafted over from the opposite side of his austere office, where she was reading _Don Quixote_. "If this conversation's moving in a sexual direction, I recommend we relocate to the bedchamber. Cornelia and Euphemia wouldn't want to be left out."

"I'm afraid not," he replied, glancing up at the room's clock. Sayoko's disappointment was almost palpable, though she dutifully continued her ministrations. "Kallen's still bonding with the Darlton boys. We'll not get started until she returns. She misbehaved greatly yesterday, and has a punishment waiting for her when she joins us tonight. I do believe that Cornelia even acquired a paddle for the occasion."

That got his assassin's blood going. "I'll ensure you get a turn as well," he promised solemnly.

"Spanking or spanked?" C.C asked in clarification. He spied a catlike smirk on her face, well-concealed behind the thick cover of her book.

" _Why choose?_ " murmured Sayoko under her breath.

Lelouch coughed slightly. "Before we get too sidetracked, how soon will we be ready to leave Tangiers?"

"Hm. Tomorrow evening at the earliest." He could nearly feel the embarrassed heat coming from Sayoko's face. "The FPA's regional governor attempted to flee, but I had my Frumentarii intercept him. After some gentle persuasion, he gave up a list of all the known collaborators and sympathizers in the city. I'm having them seen to, so as long as Smilas does his job, the city should have no internal problems. And with the four divisions he'll be bringing across, it should be secure externally as well."

When it came to intelligence and coercion, Lelouch trusted none better than Sayoko. The notion of leaving Tangiers with only four divisions as garrison still didn't sit well with him though considering the FPA's size, but he knew that if Khoza wanted his remaining ports secure, he'd only be able to spare four himself. "Well done. Updates abroad?"

"Steady advancement for the party in Europe. Significant spike in your book sales actually, with the news. Minister Philippe issued a tentative statement of praise for your success to save face, but the Vox as a whole are still attempting to tear you down. Kewell reports that he and Kaguya have finally finished weaning Neo-Japan off of European labor. We're now self-sufficient, population-wise. And I believe Reuben made a breakthrough with Project Daedalus, but he's not sent a report of his own yet."

"Oh?" said Lelouch at the end. If Reuben's little AI project bore fruit in time for deployment against Britannia, it would be a substantial game-changer. He was nowhere near naive enough to believe that Schneizel and his little think tanks won't have developed a counter to his airships by R-Day—so new tech would be one of the deciding factors.

And wasn't that a daunting thought? The next four years, his older brother would be analyzing his every tactic, strategy, and mistake.

His older brother, who had been the only opponent he'd never beaten at chess. Of course, Kewell had long ago beaten into him the lesson that chess was a mere game, in no way reflective of generalship, but a part of his mind still dreaded the inevitable showdown. Chess was not war, but you could still glean elements of an opponent's mindset from it, and he knew that Schneizel would be his most challenging enemy.

When dealing with an conflict, Lelouch's preferred strategy was to identify the 'tipping point' upon which the battle's outcome rested, and hit it with everything he had. The Occupation's Knightmares, the Mt. Fuji Mines' control room, and on a larger scale Japan itself to Britannia's military complex.

But Schneizel was the only opponent he'd ever encountered that simply had no tipping points. His strategy was just... perfect. Whatever the situation was, Schneizel would execute the best response to it based on all available data. The only ways Lelouch could think to beat him would be through either subterfuge, or such overwhelming force that perfect strategy simply wouldn't matter.

While confident in his espionage capabilities, Lelouch knew that Schneizel was aware of his own weakness to deception. It was the reason in his tenure as Prime Minister, he'd more than doubled to size of the Homeland Intelligence Service. Even for the Shadows, pulling a gambit off on his brother would be exceedingly tricky.

Thus, he'd been endeavoring to secure overwhelming force as a backup, but the damnable stranglehold on resources constantly throttled his production lines.

It wasn't even intentional, and Schneizel was still cutting him off at every turn. The FPA had been engineered to starve Europe of wheat, not steel, but they were still the obstacle keeping him from building an ample military for his purposes.

In all honesty his brother would be a prime acquisition for the New Order, but the thought made him hesitate. He loved his brother, but Schneizel had always been... difficult to read. He carried a charming and reasonable outward face, but Lelouch knew that there was a cold calculating side beneath the exterior. Yet _what_ it served to calculate towards had always eluded him.

The simple answers: money, power, prestige, all of them Schneizel already possessed in spades. His desires had to be something deeper, and without knowing, Lelouch had no angle to work from.

"Oh dear, his face has gone all brooding again," droned C.C, in a tone that was a dead ringer for Milly's typical mockery. "What was it this time, Lelouch dear? Imagining your inevitable fiery, climactic showdown with Britannia? Or just practicing your dark and fearsome scowl?"

He rolled his eyes, before sitting up. Sayoko dutifully handed him his shirt, which he put on. "Just thinking about the road ahead."

"Well stop," said Sayoko strictly, "or you'll knot your back up all over again."

"But then he'd have to take his shirt off again," C.C said, temptation laced in her voice.

His head of intelligence wavered, but persevered. "I must look after my Master's wellbeing. To put personal feelings over that would be a failure of my duty."

"Good to know you're still on my side, pet," chuckled Lelouch, pulling her in for a soft kiss and pulling away before it could escalate. "I think we've accomplished as much as we can for now. Gene will want to brief me first thing in the morning, but we have tonight to ourselves."

C.C pantomimed a sniffle. "I think more beautiful words have never been spoken."

* * *

"Again."

The word made Louis' heart sink. He took a deep breath as the soaked rag was applied to his face once more, then the water came. Eventually his lungs gave out and he inhaled. It wasn't real, he wasn't drowning. But his mind couldn't be convinced of that. It told him that he was dying.

After what felt like eternity, the downpour stopped and the rag was removed. Gruff hands righted the chair he was tied to.

"I can do this all night," said his torturer. "Your name. It's all I ask. Not your employer, not your comrades. Just your _fucking_ name."

But Louis held out, even as he gasped for air. He hadn't joined the Guardians of Liberty to be soft. The moment he gave in even an inch to his interrogators, he would lose. This pain could be borne.

"You're going to tell me eventually. Believe me, we can do this to you a hell of a lot longer than you can be stubborn. The only question is whether or not you tell us your name before we do some damage that you won't walk away from.

It was clear that these men had never seen true resolve. They wouldn't break him, no matter what they thought.

His interrogator sighed. "Grab me some pliers. Hard way it is then."

One of the goons behind Louis rummaged around in the dark mechanic's garage. Several seconds later, a pair of pitted, rusted pliers were passed to his torturer by a set of gloved hands. "What do you you think?" he asked the room at large. "Fingernails or teeth? I mean, teeth always get answers, but fingernails have a much nicer buildup with room for elaboration."

"Fingernails," answered a woman's voice. "Teeth do work better, but its irritating to talk to them afterwards."

"Point. Fingernails it is then."

Without further ceremony his masked torturer grabbed one of Louis' ziptied hands, and—

He screamed. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't even clamp down on it slightly. There were no metaphors or analogies to describe it. It felt like having his fingernails ripped out with rusty pliers. The waterboarding had been bad, but it hadn't been _real._ This was real.

Something thin and blood-soaked was waved before his eyes, but he barely registered it before losing consciousness.

* * *

Diethard cursed as the larger bruiser passed out for the second time. It was getting very late, and there was only so much that adrenaline shots could do. But without a name, Lupin couldn't do anything—and none of the other Geass Shadows assigned to him possessed the sort that would be useful for interrogation.

He needed to know who this man worked for, and he needed to know fast.

Ashford might have some interrogation drugs that could be shipped over, or some spare agents capable of more direct information extraction, but he didn't want to draw on Master Lelouch's resources unless absolutely necessary.

Yet he might have to. His movements were essentially paralyzed until this mysterious enemy was identified, and the timetable was already set. Tsar Alexander would be kicking off the Ave Imperator party properly within the next week, so Reid couldn't have these sort of loose ends lying about for the Vox to pick up on. In fact, it was almost certain that this enemy had ties to the Vox, making him all the more dangerous.

What was the phrase? 'Damned if you do, damned if you don't?'

"I'll need to return to the hotel for tonight," he said eventually. "Don't let up until he gives you a name. Rotate shifts if you have to, and notify me the moment you make progress. If there are no updates by the time I wake up, I'll send for Ashford's assistance."

The four Shadows and Lupin all snapped to salutes. Diethard returned them, but the frustration of the situation kept him distracted.

Hopefully, with Lady Malcal's assistance, this sort of problem wouldn't crop up in the future.

* * *

Gene rubbed his tired eyes, and took another sip of his coffee. How he longed for sleep, but there was far too much to be done. With His Majesty's sudden reappraisal of the FPA forces, he was left with the unenviable task of tightening down all existing policies in such a way that it was not obvious—along with double-checking that the details of the invasion plan would still work under the new evaluation.

He concurred with His Majesty's prediction that the FPA would move the three Trisaggitis divisions up from New Paris, and attempt a triple-envelopment from the flanks by bringing in the two Black Stars divisions from Rabat and Oran. The Airborne would be dealing with the Oran division enroute, so he would be squaring off against four.

His men were well-trained and as equipped as they could be under the circumstances, but the FPA were ferocious and battle-hardened. Ideally, he'd like to place troops in the mountains so as to turn the terrain against the enemy, but as many a general had learned from Thermopylae, a single unknown bypass could prove disastrous to a plan like that.

No, a tight perimeter would be best. Isolated to perhaps three miles around the city, with aerial reconnaissance over the Atlas Mountains as an early-detection system. So long as they held the beachhead, they could eventually overstretch the FPA as His Majesty rapidly seized their coastline.

Only two concerns continued to trouble him. Both centered around Britannia's damnable 'Black Subs'. Apparently the product of one of Prince Minister Schneizel's many think tanks, the vehicles were all but undetectable by every method in his Navy's disposal. They were why Britannia had been able to wage unrestricted naval warfare against the Union for years now without any reprisal.

The first issue was that, with these subs out there, it was virtually impossible to completely secure the Strait of Gibraltar. Ashford had provided him with a new type of underwater-mounted sonar units that should theoretically detect any subs that passed near one, but they were completely untested against the Black Subs.

But he'd had crews line the opening of the strait with them anyway, and thus far all had been quiet. Which was either very good, or utterly disastrous.

And second, the French-West-African 'Diamond Dogs' had five divisions securing the region's western coastline, despite Black Subs keeping the area from European ships. They were technically within reinforcement range of Tangiers as well. If Khoza decided to be particularly short-sighted, he could divert them and drop a full nine divisions onto Tangiers.

It would be ultimately foolhardy, as Gene could just retreat his soldiers into Spain before having His Majesty bring the airfleet back to eliminate them, but it would cost precious time that they had little of to spare.

Unfortunately, as with the subs themselves, he had no real solution to this problem. Perhaps by sending a few ships to harass the western coast he could convince them to remain in place, but if the Black Subs sank them, it would be a massive loss of materials.

He supposed that all he could do was hope the His Majesty secured the north quickly enough that they could begin pushing south. Once they began reclaiming mines, the Union war machine could begin chugging in earnest, but at the moment it was hanging by a thread.

Trade with the Federation could have offset the deficiency, but the Eunuchs knew the desperate situation of the Union. When His Majesty had attempted to negotiate a trade deal, the ultimatum they'd sent him had been positively outrageous. In addition to 75% of Neo-Japan's Sakudadite exports, laughable in itself, they had demanded a tariff on all goods they traded that would in essence completely cover their extraction costs—meaning that the entire payment would go right into the Eunuchs' pockets as profit.

His Majesty had been expecting a raw deal, but the sheer arrogance contained in the message had made him... displeased. Gene did not know what plans he had in plan for the Federation now, but he doubted that they ended well for the Eunuchs.

Draining the last of his coffee, he signed off on the final order from his 'urgent' pile. The rest could be left for the morning in... five hours.

God damn it.

* * *

Schneizel moved his white bishop forward, and after a moment brought the black queen out to meet it. He wasn't truly playing the game, merely using it as a tool to visualize his assets and obstacles.

He had to admit it: this 'Emperor Zero' was beginning to seriously intrigue him, hence his status as the queen—the most dangerous piece on the board.

Naturally, he'd been keeping track of the Union's politics with interest, and while Gene Smilas' controversial decision to appoint Zero as Grand Marshal of the Union military had come as a surprise, he'd thought it very fortuitous. Leading a resistance group against a small occupational government with international backing was one thing. Waging war on a continental scale was another.

Yet from the looks of it, Zero was pulling it off with almost contemptuous ease. He'd even somehow preempted and stolen Schneizel's own plans for the Avalon to serve as a prototype for a new fleet of shielded airships.

Already, he had Asplund tearing apart every piece of data they could get on those airships, trying to deduce their capabilities and weaknesses.

But where had Zero acquired the rest of that technology? The airfleet he could believe had been adapted from what they scavenged from the Avalon, whatever had happened to it, but the rest? It was highly improbable that the Union had been developing military tech like that without his knowledge.

Ashford. It had to have been Ashford. The man's unofficial status as a Neo-Japanese hostage had deeply grieved him, both for the man's loyalty to Britannia and the loss of his technical skills. But his facilities had also been located in the Tokyo Settlement. If Zero had managed to raid them, every project the man had been working on would have been turned against his homeland.

That was... unfortunate. While he'd grown frustrated with the man's repeated setbacks in creating a production-model seventh generation KMF, it was undeniable that the man was a rare genius. The sort of man that an entire empire counted as a strategic asset.

Asplund may have created the Lancelot, but Schneizel had been forced to send the design to three separate think tanks before one could turn it into the Vincent. Whereas Ashford had _invented_ the Knightmare.

And now, thanks to Zero, the Vincent design was forced to undergo revisions that would make it far less Sakuradite-dependent. Worse, the entire marker of seventh-generation of KMFs was the integration of Sakuradite lacing into the body of the frame itself—increasing conductivity, responsiveness, and power. He couldn't mass produce frames like that anymore. Not without either finding new deposits or developing a substitute.

He had all the raw materials he could ever want, but a relatively minuscule amount of Sakuradite. The Union now had around eighty percent of the world's Sakuradite, but the FPA were still starving them from Africa. Rather ironic, really.

And speaking of, he'd need to contact Khoza soon to offer his advice. Pushing for the man's appointment as 'President' of the FPA had been a risky move, but the success or failure of the separatists had depended on whether or not they could gain the support of the African people. For while the average African had a number of gripes with the European establishment, they had also been citizens of it for centuries. In order to obtain their support, he'd needed to place Khoza's level-headed image as its face.

While it hadn't worked quite as well as he'd hoped, the FPA would still be a time-consuming challenge for Zero and the Union to deal with—one that would bleed them of their limited resources. All he needed to do these next two years was talk the Eunuchs off the edge and prolong the African conflict.

Once a personal union was established between Britannia and the Federation, Europe would crumble like a poorly-built house of cards. He could properly invade them, then pull out his calming hand from the FPA and watch them tear themselves apart, before conquering them under the _casus foederis_ of intervention.

To be completely honest the idea of outright subjugating the Union left a bad taste in his mouth, but he had little choice. Without a leader who could make unilateral decisions for them, he had no way to consolidate them with Britannia that didn't involve conquest. A failing of democracy, he supposed. The Union's people would not make a decision that was in their best interest, so he was forced to make it for them.

The people of the Chinese Federation would be unlikely to take the personal union well, but they'd have no choice. They would be somewhat bitter and resentful, but their children would be raised knowing no other alternative—and within two generations would be happy citizens of the empire.

Meanwhile, the Europeans would hate Britannia. They would despise it. And that hatred would linger. Unless dealt with in utmost delicacy, Britannia would be dealing with unrest and revolt in Europe for centuries.

Schneizel knew it all too well. He was playing a dangerous game to decide the fate of the world. The lives of millions would weigh on his every move. And should he lose...

World war. On a scale unimaginable. Cities leveled, billions starving or laying dead in craters. The utter dissolution of society and order as it was currently known. Perhaps even the extinction of man itself.

Three superpowers, each fundamentally opposed to the others. The alliance between Britannia and the Federation would tip the triangular balance, meaning that this state pf affairs _would_ come to a head. Schneizel was confident that his years of planning would see the decisive victory he so dearly needed, but the weight on his shoulders still kept him up at night.

He looked down at the chessboard before him and the empty chair across from it. The question niggled to the forefront of his mind.

Who would his opponent emerge to be?

* * *

The shriek of rising mortar shells stirred Friedrich from his slumber, and immediately he was filled with resigned dread. Another night raid.

Though superior in numbers, the FPA were no match strategically for General Joffre of the French Colonial Garrison. While the Crimson Night had taken its toll in the southern regions of Africa, the uprisings had been put down before they grew out of control. Unfortunately, the same could not be said north of the Congo. When it had become clear that the newly-arisen 'Free Peoples of Africa' were advancing south to take the rest of the continent, Joffre had taken action.

Coordinating with the German Colonial Garrisons, he'd established a 3500 kilometer defensive line roughly along the 5th Southern Parallel, following the borders of German South Africa, German East Africa, and the southern edge of the Congolese rainforest.

Administrators in Europe had called it a 'gross overreaction' and 'senseless escalation', only to shut their mouths when _thousands_ of FPA soldiers had slammed against the line within a month, aided by small pockets of Britannian support infantry that had landed in the newly-created dark zones of the coastal defenses.

Tanks, artillery, and KMF strike forces had made every attempt to break through the line, but Joffre had an uncanny ability to predict attacks and reinforce the weak points.

So these days, the FPA just settled for making themselves a draining nuisance.

Friedrich buckled his pants on and stumbled up the circular staircase into his 140mm medium artillery battery. Ernst was already in there, loading a shell magazine into the autocannon.

"Another raid on the forward defenses," muttered Peter, their spotter, darkly. While their concrete bastion was dug into a large hill, immune to even bunker buster missiles, their outer lines of mines, small pillboxes, tanktraps, and barbed wire were easier prey for the FPA. They usually inflicted few casualties by themselves during the raids, but they would destroy defenses that needed to be repaired—and those repair crews were always under constant attack by snipers, mortars, and light aircraft.

Peter rattled off adjustments, before Friedrich pulled the cannon's trigger and unleashed a string of danger-close shells along the first line of barbed wire.

"Negative effect on targets, adjusting," said Peter, still eyeing the attackers under the glow of illumination shells as he gave new designations. "Oh, that's interesting. They've rolled out one of their MBTs to clear the wire. They're either getting cocky or desperate."

"Corrections made, firing. And the latter probably. With the Hemicycle finally getting off its ass and sending Zero down, I imagine Khoza's finally starting to feel the heat," said Ernst as he let off another salvo. Peter eyed the line intensely, before cursing.

"Clipped the tank, but its still rolling. Double time, boys, before it crawls back behind the treeline."

Friedrich slotted another magazine, tossing the empty one into the reload pile. Ernst dialed in the final, adjusted designations and loosed the volley. Squinting out the firing port, Friedrich was gratified to see the hot red of burning diesel suddenly light up a stretch of no-mans-land. "Got the fuckers. To be honest, I'm not even entirely sure the Hemicycle actually sent Zero. Heard from Lieutenant Walters that there'd been _no_ officer's chatter down here about the counter-invasion before yesterday."

"Cease fire. Looks like losing their tank made Abdul lose his appetite for tonight," said Peter, before he snorted and finally turned to face them. "You honestly think Zero's acting unilaterally? This is fucking 2028, Fried. Even a High Marshal can't just launch an entire invasion without reading in at least the Prime Minister."

"All I'm saying is that _we_ didn't know jack about it. It wasn't in the news, and you know that if Philippe or the Hemicycle had decided to take back Africa from the FPA, they'd have been crowing it from the fucking rooftops."

Ernst nodded. "Fair point. Might have just been putting strategy above opinion for once, though."

"Now that's even less likely. Zero might have been acting by himself. I mean, Joffre built the entire fucking line by himself, even declared martial law and commandeered civilian work crews to make sure it got done in time. That violates about half a dozen military ordinances, I believe, but he got away with it because he was right."

That gave the room pause. If Zero _had_ launched an independent counter-invasion of Africa with the stated intention of relieving them, they owed him quite a lot.

"Well, since we're up anyway, anyone feel like raising a glass?" suggested Friedrich.

* * *

It was the crack of dawn that finally made Philippe give up on the notion of sleeping that night. He'd hardly slept a wink since becoming Prime Minister. His entire life, he'd dreamed of rising to the Union's highest office—of becoming the most powerful man in Europe.

Then he'd learned how EU politics really worked. His ascension to Prime Minister had involved secretly allying with five different, high-ranking, and opposed Vox Populi members, betraying three of them, and convincing the remaining two to turn on one another before finally convincing the survivor, Jean Renard, the current leader of the party, to back his run for Prime Minister.

It had worked, but the process had forced Philippe to realize just how cutthroat the Union could be. He had to constantly keep his guard up, analyzing every single move made by both his enemies and allies. It was exhausting, but ironically the stress kept him up at night.

For example, deciding his long-term response to Emperor Zero's little stunt in Africa. Smilas' decision to put the man in charge of the Union Military was still indecipherable. The general had been a rising star in French politics, and the unexpected appointment had put that entire career track at risk. And for who? Some terrorist with delusions of grandeur from a backwater island in the Pacific, one who had narrowly managed to barge his way into the Central Hemicycle.

Damn Zero. Punishing him wasn't a viable option, despite what he did arguably being treason. He could see how that would go down in court. Zero would argue that the existing state of conflict between Europe and the FPA constituted grounds for military action, and the public would crucify anyone that spoke out against their new war hero.

The only option that didn't make him look impotent had been to praise Zero's actions and pretend that it had been secretly approved, much as that pained him.

It was clear the Zero was a renegade with his own ambitions, one that would need a close eye kept on him. If the man's loyalty wasn't in question, Smilas would be a good choice for that, but now Philippe would need an outside observer. Leblanc? Travers? Martin?

Chastain. The members of his Protection Service were the only men in the Union that he trusted. He'd handpicked every single one of them, not for fear of assassination, but because they were monitoring him constantly. A single mole among them, and an enemy could destroy him at will. Their loyalty to him was without question, as was their discretion.

He smiled. Zero would escape punishment for his actions, but Philippe would still be making his displeasure known to the masked upstart.

* * *

Passers-by parted around Leila as she strolled through the _Parc de Buttes-Chaumont_ in the early morning. Of course, they usually did when you walked through a park leading a pair of dogs the size of an average man.

As a young woman living alone in a city like Paris, Leila had long ago accepted that even the gun she carried was not enough to deter some gutter trash. Hence her adoption of a pair of male Great Danes by the names of Romulus and Remus. Their size and intimidation factor ensured that she was unmolested anywhere she went with them, which was ironic considering their rather docile and obedient nature.

She reached her usual bench along the bank of the artificial lake in the park's center and let her dogs off their leash to go play. Even in her large apartment the two were a bit cooped up, so she made a habit of letting them run themselves out here every morning.

Watching those that walked by through the park, Leila noted an odd change. They walked slightly taller, with straighter backs and more ease in their posture. Its near-universality puzzled her, as she pondered its cause.

' _Emperor Zero_ ', she eventually realized with a shock. She'd missed the news yesterday, busy managing her portfolio, but apparently it had hit the streets of Paris like a surprise holiday. Six years of economic and social depression were coming to an end, and action was finally being taken to neutralize the looming guillotine blade of Britannia that hung over the Union.

But even with that news, the typical tranquility she found in this place didn't come to her this morning, mostly due to the knowledge of the business card in her pocket.

The events of the previous night still felt unreal, like a dream. But the bullet missing from her gun's magazine said otherwise. She'd killed a man last night, and thanks to Mr. Price she'd gotten away with it. She owed him.

Yet a part of her brain told her that the man was trouble. Perhaps the way he'd known that she was a Countess. It felt almost like a setup.

' _The world is on our shores. We need an Emperor, not an assembly!'_

Still, even now, Price's words rang with her, breathing new life into a fire in her that she had thought long-extinguished. The fire that had sunk beneath the waves of the English Channel along with little Lucille's cold body. The Ave Imperator party's message was one she agreed with. Its leader had personally offered an invitation to her, after saving her from certain death or imprisonment. And all he had asked in return was for her to hear out his offer.

An offer. That was all it was. Something to be listened to, with no obligation to accept.

Her jaw straightened as she reached her resolution.

* * *

"More tea, mistress?"

"Yes please, if you would," answered Nunnally, having learned long before now that any attempt to have Bella and Lucinda call her by name would be met with polite refusal. That wasn't to say that they weren't friendly and nice, just stiff and formal as well.

Using the clink of china as her guide, she lifted the refilled teacup and took a sip of the sweetened brew. Three sugars was a bit much, but Nunnally liked her tea to be sweet.

"Has there been any word from Big Brother?"

"Master Lelouch sent a message late last night," said Bella, "but you were asleep. He apologizes and says that its unlikely he'll be able to come home any time before Christmas. He's overseeing a project in Europe that will require constant attention, though if he gets an unexpected break, he promises to fly back and visit you. He also says that he's set aside time today for a phonecall if you would like."

Nunnally beamed. "That would be very nice. I can tell him all about my studies with the tutors."

"I think he'd like that, mistress. Between you and me, I think Master Lelouch has been very stressed of late, and feels bad about his absence. A talk with you would mean a lot to him."

"I hope so," she said earnestly. "He does so much for me, it's the least I can do for him."

And Lelouch _did_ do a lot for her, much more than he told her. That she knew. She acted the sweet and innocent little sister because that was what Lelouch wanted and needed her to be, but she knew that he was _not_ an employee of the Ashford Consortium. Her sense of smell was almost as good as her hearing, and many nights Lelouch and Sayoko had come home smelling of tangy iron. Blood.

Bella and Lucinda were always careful to filter all of the outside news she heard, but she was extremely perceptive. A passing conversation in the park, the news playing in a parked car, even whispered conversations between her caretakers themselves. Bits here and there put together a narrative, and a different view of her beloved brother.

She knew that he harbored a deep hatred of their father, along with a promise to make the world a better place for her. That the two had combined to create... Zero.

It answered too many questions, and filled too many blanks to be untrue. Her brother was a revolutionary-turned-emperor. He had set off a Japanese revolution against Britannia and used it to make himself Emperor by marrying some Japanese princess. And now he was off in Europe doing who-knows-what.

Lies. Lies upon lies. Some days she felt like a songbird in a gilded cage—pampered and loved but at the same time a mere ornament to be ignored whenever convenient, and permanently locked away for its own good. Some days she just wanted to yell and scream at her wardens Bella and Lucinda to tell her the truth for once, instead of kowtowing along with her Big Brother's grand masquerade.

But she just couldn't. Lelouch loved her. That she knew completely. He loved her more than life itself. Whether she liked it or not, nearly everything he did was for her benefit. He lied because he didn't want to burden her with the knowledge of the actions he was undertaking in her name.

And it was true, when she had first put the pieces together, that the revelation had horrified her. What had to have been _thousands_ dead in the name of her gentler world, in _her_ name. She had thought about it for days before finally coming to terms with it.

The dead were dead. Lelouch had gone too far now to turn back, though she knew he would if she asked. But if she did, those lives would have been wasted.

No, independent of her sensibilities, the only way to make her brother's sacrifices not in vain was to let him complete his crusade. There would be more deaths, but she also trusted her brother. He would succeed, if given time. All she could do was play along and be as supporting as she could—serving as the wall keeping his monstrous side at bay.

She didn't like describing her brother as 'monstrous', but she knew that a part of him was. He'd never consciously let her see it, but nevertheless she had. Such as several years ago, when a Britannian man in the park had commented that 'disgusting invalids' such as her should be kept inside or euthanized.

Lelouch had been with her. He'd whispered something to Lucinda, who remained behind to 'run some errands'. The next day, one of her classmates took a leave of absence for several days. Apparently, her older brother had been found dead with his neck snapped. In the same park. She'd dismissed it at the time, but when the pieces began coming together, that one had clicked into place as well.

Which was worse, she wondered, that he'd had a man killed for insulting her, or that she had only discovered it by sheer coincidence?

Yet he'd done it for her. He couldn't be changed, only guided. She was the part that kept him human, and that was all she could be. She couldn't walk. She couldn't see. But that was the little bit of good she could do for both him and the world.

She heard the footsteps outside her guarded little haven before the doorbell rang. Lucinda departed, and returned several seconds later. "Lady Ashford is here, mistress. Shall I show her in?"

"Of course. You needn't ask." That was what Milly did, after all. And perhaps that was why they were such good friends. They were part of what kept Lelouch human.

* * *

Kaguya stared out the window of Carine's old office in the Tokyo Citadel, her hands perched across her lap as satisfaction welled up within her. Cranes filled the skyline as Neo-Japanese contruction crews toiled continuously, not to rebuild the Japan that once was, but to engineer a better one.

It was a small empire, ready to be snuffed like a candle at the first unexpected gust.

But it was _real_ _._

Its citizens adored her, its soldiers hung on her every word. Its coffers flowed with Euros as shipments of refined Sakuradite were sent out northwards through the Russian Trans-Siberian Maglev Railway. Given that most of the EU's Sakuradite once came from Siberia, they had all of the systems in place to securely transport it. Now that they had access to Japan, they'd simply had to expand it through the small island.

She could now theoretically take a bullet train straight from Tokyo to Paris, in somewhere around seven hours. One of the few points in Europe's favor was that while Britannia focused their expenditure into expansion and military, Europe had placed it into infrastructure.

That was why they had incredible feats of technology like the TSMR and the Terraform Africa Project under their belts.

A massive wave as a ship was released from the drydock drew her attention to the Ashford District, where crews were working around the clock to build a functional Neo-Japanese Navy. The borrowed Union ships they currently had defending them were nothing to scoff at, but they weren't enough to fight a full Britannian fleet.

As the old Japanese government had learned, a land invasion was the worst ground to fight the Britannians on. If Emperor Charles or Prince-Minister Schneizel got any notions about breaking the ceasefire, her only hope would be to hold them off in the seas and air. In the latter case, unfortunately, an airfleet would have to wait. Though at least her husband would be able to justify Neo-Japan receiving the second airfleet due to its strategic importance and isolation, once the materials were secured.

The reality of the skyline before her still shocked her at times. She thought back to her days among the Six Houses, squabbling and scraping in the vain dream of reviving the corpse they all naively idolized. The empire she saw before her now was greater than Japan had ever been.

Industry, technology, wealth, family, growth. With the guidance of her husband and Count Soresi, Neo-Japan was prospering under her rule.

Thanks to the now-universal CHIPs, she could completely regiment the lives of her citizens into perfect harmony. Every step was in line, and every heart beat in sync. Every citizen was happy to be doing their part for the nation. The mathematical efficiency of it pleased her more than she'd care to admit.

And with the fact that Neo-Japan was building anew, it was able to set aside enough farmlands and mines to remain largely self-sufficient, independent of the need for African resources like the rest of the EU.

It was more than she'd ever dreamed. Not only were the Japanese free and prospering, but she was their _Empress_. The crowds adored her, stopping whatever they were doing to cheer and shout and cry at her car whenever it passed them in the street. Her office received hundreds of heartfelt letters every day, from children to the elderly.

If this was the peace her husband sought for the world, she wished hell upon any that stood in his way.

* * *

The Ritz. It had been stated so casually to Leila that she'd almost not realized that Price had meant _that_ Ritz.

She'd been a little girl the last time she'd set foot in a place that radiated this much _opulence._ Even with her best dress on, she was pretty sure it was only her deliberate noble bearing that kept the doorman from outright stopping her at the entrance.

And once inside, she still felt like an impostor. Paris' elite dined to her left and lounged to her right, their curious and occasionally affronted gazes following her as she approached the reception desk.

"Can I help you?" asked the woman manning it, her tone implying her dubiousness to the notion. Leila noted a pair of burly valets move to a position where they would conveniently be on hand to either assist her or throw her out—and Leila could take a guess which one they anticipating.

"I'm here to meet with George Price. Is he in?"

The change was instantaneous. An air of servility overtook the woman, and one of the valets backed off. "Lady Malcal? Of course. Mister Price is awaiting you in the Chopin Suite. Olivier will show you there, if you please."

Leila almost started as the remaining valet stepped forward, bowing at the waist and extending an arm to the side in an invitation to follow.

Once more, she was in shock. Not only had the reaction to Price's name been utterly stark, but if she wasn't mistaken, the woman had said the _Chopin_ Suite. As in _Frederick_ Chopin. And the suite he had once made extensive use of at the Paris Ritz.

Exactly who was Price, that one of the most expensive hotel rooms in Paris was his preferred port of call?

The valet, Olivier, stopped before a large, ornate door and unlocked it with a key from his belt. "Mr. Price stated that should you arrive, he would receive you promptly in here. If there is anything we can do to make your visit more pleasurable, you need only but ask."

Hesitantly, Leila stepped through the door as Olivier bowed and departed. The inside of the suite bore all of the lavishness of Versailles with none of the garish quality. Gold filigree carved elaborate patterns across the ceiling, and wide, curtained windows provided warm sunlight entrance into the small sitting room. Soft, slow piano music wafted through the air and into Leila's ears.

The piece was quiet, and almost mournful. It was a song of... something lost, but beautiful and remembered. As Leila listened to it, each time the music refrained it also elaborated, becoming more and more its own work—surpassing what had come before. Gradually the melancholy and nostalgia were outweighed by progress and triumph.

But right as the final refrain faded, it played the original hints of that lost glory. Leila felt moisture on her cheeks, and realized that a tear had slipped from her eye. ' _Victory, but at what cost?_ '. That was what the piece's theme.

Shaking her head in an ultimately futile attempt to clear it of the emotions stirred by the music, she stepped further into the suite. After passing through a doorway, she found herself in a small sitting room, decorated with antique furniture and paintings. The far end of the room was dominated by a large grand piano, at which sat Mr. Price, in the flesh. He was clad in suit pants, loafers, and a grey vest over a white dress shirt and red necktie.

"What song was that?" she asked, almost involuntarily.

"Chopin's Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2," he said simply, as if he knew and understood her feelings. "My mother taught me to play as a boy, though to tell the truth I never quite appreciated the art. Now that I am of an age to enjoy composers like Chopin, I find that my fingers are nowhere near as nimble as they once were."

He finally turned to face her, and she saw well-concealed bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. "Funny, how life often works like that, isn't it?"

"That is human nature," she said. "That eternal irony is embedded into who we are."

Price snorted bemusedly. "God does not play dice, but he certainly has his little jokes, doesn't he?" Something about the statement seemed to snap the man from his reflection, and he focused on Leila fully. "But I did not invite you here to lament on the human condition. I invited you to offer you a job. Have you lunched yet? I was just about to have something myself, and would be delighted if you would join me."

Courtesy urged Leila to accept, and soon they were dining over fillet of rabbit, with mustard sauce and celery spaghettis from _L'Espadon_.

"Now," said Price after taking a sip of his Pinot Noir, "I feel that my exit last night was rather hasty, but I am sure that you understand the impetus I was under, yes?"

Considering the bloodstains she'd left on the God of Clay's doorstep, yes, Leila did. "It's quite alright, Mr. Price."

He smiled in gratitude. "Thank you. To provide a touch of background for my offer, its important to know that last night's little incident has not been an anomaly among the party's meetings. Our message is threatening to many of the more militant democratic groups throughout the EU, and there have been dozens of attacks on party members and meetings orchestrated by them. Worse, with the Union's political climate, few police forces are willing to protect us."

"The police last night were sympathizers," Leila pointed out, but Price shook his head.

"The _officers_ were sympathizers. When I went to their station to see about pressing charges against those thugs, I found that the precinct Captain had already released them without so much as processing. I did some digging, and found out that _he_ had done so on orders from even higher up."

Leila put two and two together. "Some high-end Parisian politician is backing agitators against the party's activities." The thought sickened her. Politicians like that were what had turned the Union's political system into a game with loaded dice. They forced the Union's citizens to struggle through the effort of playing, to bear responsibility and pay for the game, but the system was weighted in favor of an outcome that he had no power to escape.

"Precisely. And its not just Paris. The Pax and the Vox have been using tricks such as these to squash small and threatening parties for decades, with no answer to it. Long have I been wracking my brain, trying to find a way to counter it. And in you, my dear, I believe that I've finally found a solution."

"Me?" she couldn't help but ask.

Price folded his hands as he leaned closer. "I've been having my bodyguards run facial recognition through the security cameras at all of my meetings, largely in a futile endeavor to prevent an incident like last night's. Your military background drew Mr. Lupin's attention, and he had me look over your dossier before I spoke. A British Countess, a Captain of the infamous 'Fatal Foreign' Legions, and an independently wealthy yet politically inactive young woman in _Paris_ of all cities."

The list _did_ seem accomplished when phrased like that, but Leila knew the heavy burdens that had come with each of those qualities.

"The party requires protection," continued Price, his tone heavy and serious, "and the police will not do so as long as the Pax and Vox hold their leashes. The larger the party grows, the more violent, aggressive, and desperate the attacks will become. I have seen it before. If the party's message is to endure, it must protect itself."

"An organized party security division," completed Leila.

"Once more, you see perfectly. While we usually have a veteran like Private Dubois manning the door with a cudgel, the next attack is unlikely to be with firecrackers and blackjacks. And we won't have a woman with your keen aim in every meeting for when someone pulls a knife. We need someone like you to gather volunteers and establish an organization that will ensure the Ave Imperator message is not squashed. To protect it by force of arms, if necessary."

Leila slowly set her glass down, leveling a stare at the man across from her for several long moments. "Mr. Price, you assume a great deal. I attended a single meeting of your party, and had blood on my hands by the time I left it. What makes you believe that I have any willingness to form a paramilitary in your name?"

"Not in my name, but in the party's. I founded the Ave Imperators, not for power, but to save the Union for destruction, and I _know_ that you see that. I watched you last night, Lady Malcal. You too recognize that the Union's current course will see us eaten alive by the Britannians come Recommencement Day. And even if we somehow persevered, what have we preserved? A decrepit democracy led by the fickle whims of the masses. The Ave are Europe's only hope to prosper as Napoleon envisioned."

Argument after argument clamored through Leila's mind, but each was methodically shot down by arguments from the other side with the speed of a machine gun battery.

He was right. God damn it, Price was right. If you wanted to see what the right Emperor could do, all you needed was one look at Neo-Japan. Two years ago it had been a desolate hellhole under Britannia's bootheel. Now, under Emperor Zero, it was arguably the most prosperous state in the Union. In fact, it was also Zero that was kicking the FPA up and down Tangiers to finally bring an end to the African Conflict, which the Hemicycle had permitted to fester.

She sighed, once more looking up to meet Price's gaze. To her surprise, there was no look of victory in his eyes at her agreement, as she'd been expecting. Instead they were almost soft, understanding, and approving. The eyes her father had whenever she made him proud.

It made her feel better about the decision.

Price stood and extended his hand. Despite her hesitance, she accepted it.

"Countess Malcal, permit me the honor of naming you Captain Malcal of the Praetorian Guard."

* * *

 _[End Chapter]_

* * *

 **Hello again, readers, and welcome back to Darwin: Act 2. Neolyph here, as always. My god did this chapter get long on me. I originally intended it to be shorter, but I felt obliged to include cameos from characters like Nunnally and Kaguya, to show what they've been up to since the timeskip. As a side note, I realized as I was writing this yesterday that this story has made it to the front page of Code Geass favorites. Considering that Code Geass was the fandom that first got me into fanfiction, it actually means quite a lot to me that I've managed to somehow crawl my way up to the Top 25. Thank you, to everyone that's read, reviewed, followed, and favorited. When I've had a shit day at work, a notification on my phone that someone's left a review on my story always cheers me up. So, like I said, thanks guys. Not much else to say, so I'm going to jump right into reviews.**

 **BlackTyrantValvatorez:** I'm still one the fence about introducing new Code Bearers. I have an idea about how one could spice up the Chinese section of this arc, but its still something I'm working out.

 **TheSmilingMask:** Thanks, that means a lot. Leila is on the harem train, though I've yet to decide exactly when it will pull into station. To be honest, Akito the Exiled just annoyed the hell out of me, which is part of why Leila and Smilas are pretty much the only two characters I've salvaged from that trainwreck of a spinoff, and rebuilt an OC European Union from spit, Romantic literature, and duct tape.

 **Stormhawk fan SHhype:** The Tarkin voice is fitting, but for Reid I have something roughly along slightly-younger John Hurt's voice in my head for his lines.

 **RandomReview:** Well that's great to hear. I'm still putting the pieces in place for the first 'check' against Lelouch, and I aim to have it out within 2-3 chapters.

 **Guest:** You ought to use a handle, since you're providing some of the better critiques for this story. I actually own Battletech, but I keep dropping it around the prologue. I think I just need to power through the unfamiliar controls, but I haven't had the time of late. The Raptors have ranged weaponry, but against tanks, close-range is your friend in a Knightmare, especially when you have flight capabilities. And while MVS swords would be expensive as hell to mass-produce, streamlining the system to just the point of a lance makes them much cheaper while sacrificing minimal armor-penetration. Production-scale energy weapons are also something on Lelouch's project log. On your other review, the US' two party system _does_ make sense from a democratic perspective, it also makes both parties as bland and homogenized as possible, which I dislike. In canon Leila was a KMF pilot, but not in the Darwin-verse. And Lupin was just a name that came to mind, mostly because of my mental image of the character. Predatory. For the submarines, as Smilas lamented, Britannian black subs are nightmares to deal with, and a large factor in their ability to control the seas.

 **Akuma-Heika:** It's in the Tenth Canto, LIX, "'My guard! My old guard!' exclaim'd that god of clay". I only know the reference because my Western Literature professor was practically obsessed with both Byron and Napoleon, and used this line as an example of both.

 **aew.3:** Oh its definitely APGTE. Lelouch needed an appropriate motto for his Legions of Terror, and I couldn't think of a better one.

 **GeneratedName:** The FPA divisions have their own styles because Schneizel essentially grew them from seven different African separatist groups, all with their own different styles and philosophies. It made them unpredictable, and also unstable enough the Schneizel would be able to pull the lynchpin and topple them at will. I'm not painting over colonial atrocities, merely portraying an alternate Colonial Africa where Europe simply decided that Africa would be far easier to manage if they didn't treat the Africans like shit. The attitude didn't completely take hold, hence the FPA. And the EU aren't the 'good' guys in this story, but perhaps the least of three evils. Schneizel's own plan is predicated on the virtues of the Britannian system, which we will see more of, along with the Chinese.

 **chimera629:** That was the joke. Lelouch has basically gone full Bond-villain, with his elaborate global gambits and flying doom fortress.

 **Generation Zero:** Absolutely, the EU leaders are eventually going to be quite unhappy with the threat Lelouch presents to their power, something he will eventually use to his advantage. If you haven't notice by now, though, I've basically thrown out most of Akito the Exiled and rebuilt the EU from scratch. I really didn't like the spinoff. The closest thing to Euro-Britannia is the FPA, a Britannia-backed separatist movement, but otherwise Europe is part of the Union.

 **darkabys:** That's a good point. Lelouch, at least, is deliberately keeping just a few designs so that he doesn't have to waste resources on spare parts for twelve different designs. And that is interesting world-building for Britannia. I might incorporate something along those lines come next arc.

 **Zecht:** You've basically hit on my main two gripes with this story, looking back. C.C was absent because I was originally going to kill her off instead of V.V, but I changed my mind at the last minute. And the Euphy/Cornelia romance _was_ incredibly rushed. I wanted to incorporate them into the harem, but I was also steaming towards the end of the arc and couldn't think of a better way to do it. The Iscariots will see their reemergence, but they're not exactly the most subtle tools in Lelouch's arsenal, and he still needs to maintain a certain image.

 **16tonweight:** Well shit, this review made my day. Ever since I really got into fine arts about two years ago, when the evolution and meaning of different art styles was patiently explained to me by my Western History professor, I've been a dedicated Romanticist. I think its largely a generational thing. In the same way that the Enlightenment was born as a counter to anti-intellectualism, I've observed that a lot of people my age have embraced Romanticism as a counter to the current Postmodern age of cynicism. In a generation devoid of principles or ideals, where realpolitik reigns supreme, a lot of us admire genuine earnestness and optimism, regardless of the sentiment displayed. To get controversial for a moment, that was why I predicted Trump's election the moment it became clear that Hillary would be his opponent. Clinton was the literal embodiment of stolid, unprincipled modern politics—whereas Trump made constant, bombastic statements left and right, and had a hard opinion on literally anything you asked him. Right or wrong, he stood for something. If you look at it, that's pretty much why he had such an unexpected following from the teenage-young adult demographic. He was the first Romanticist politician that they'd ever seen. As an aside, I gave Ur-Facism a look. I find most of the points a little too irrational for Lelouch, which makes sense considering that Facism is in itself an ultimately poor system of government, but the general vibe of the list does suit his ambitions for the Ave Imperator party. By the way, I've been meaning to find a beta for this story. You seem to have a good grasp of the different elements I'm attempting to work into this fic. Would you be interested?

 **Well, this has been Neolyph. Signing off.**


	22. Chapter 4: Old Friends

**Act 2**

 _Ave Imperator_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Old Friends**

 _"A great tactician creates plans, a good tactician recognizes the soundness of a plan presented to them, a fair tactician must see the plan succeed before offering approval. Those that have no tactical ability may never understand or accept it, nor will such people understand or accept the tactician. To those completely without that ability, those who possess it are a mystery, and when a mind is too deficient in understanding, the resulting gap is often filled with resentment._

 _Military leadership is a journey, not a destination. It is continually challenged and must continually improve itself anew against fresh obstacles. There is satisfaction in defeating an enemy, but one must never allow oneself to become complacent. There are always more enemies to be identified, faced and vanquished._

 _To digress, sometimes a commander may choose to share details of his plan. Often he may not. In either case, obedience must be instant and complete. Such automatic responses rely on complete trust between the commander and those commanded. And that trust can only be obtained through leadership._

 _But once certain levels have been reached there is no need to prove leadership or competence. A person with such power is accustomed to having every word carefully considered and every whim treated as an order, and all who recognize that power know to bow to it. Few have the courage or foolishness to resist."_

 _—[Excerpt from 'Vincit Qui', by Emperor Zero. His First Published Work, a Treatise on Leadership.]_

* * *

As Leila left the Ritz, the full implications of what she'd just done hit her like a bolt of thunder. Too stunned to walk, she took an automated cab back to her apartment in the Eighth District.

Only once in the isolated interior of the vehicle did she finally let herself panic. What in God's name had she been thinking? This was Paris! The home of manipulative, power-hungry political cabals. They took in the young, the gullible, and the ambitious before using them up and spitting them back out into the streets as drained, penniless husks. She knew this. She _bloody_ knew this.

So why, oh why, had she just shaken hands with Price and agreed to work for his party?

 _'Promise me, angel. Promise me, that you will never forget the lessons that I have taught you. That you will never forget your duties, nor let yourself stray from the path.'_

The last words her father spoke to her, before the BLA battered down their door and arrested him for his refusal to sign the Annexation Accords. Before they publicly hanged him for his loyalty to the long-dead Emperor Napoleon. Before he had sacrificed himself for his ideals, for the oath he had sworn upon taking his seat as Count Malcal.

For a long time, she had hated him for it. It had been selfish. Had he simply bowed his head and signed some papers, regardless of whether he agreed with them, Mother and Lucille might still be alive. She would never have been forced to join the Foreign Legions, spending four years waking every day and wondering if this was the one where she would finally die.

But when she looked at the Union around her...

Without ideals, principles, and absolutes, you ended up the the Union, where bleak cynicism reigned supreme. When all a leader stood for was reelection.

She'd realized that eventually; why her father valued his principles so highly. And that the reason he sacrificed himself had not been for _his_ ideals. Not truly. It had been for _her_. To impart one final lesson upon her, even if it cost him his life. The lesson that she would otherwise never learn in the Union:

That some things are worth dying for. Her father had died to teach her that lesson, in a horribly ironic twist of fate.

Finally, the subconscious reasoning focused into something approaching understanding. Father. Price was just like her father. He was a man of principles and ideals. His aims were not for personal achievement or power, but for the _salvation_ of the Union. He was acting not to better himself, but because what he was doing _needed_ to be done, and nobody else would do it.

 _'Noblesse Oblige, angel. Those who can, must.'_

By serving the party, she could save the Union not only from Britannia, but from itself. Therefore, she must.

With that last piece, clarity overcame her, and the building panic slowly evaporated—gradually replaced with resolve in the void left behind. She'd never taken a stand for something in her entire adult life. From her political neutrality to her military service, it had all been to secure and advance herself.

She had nothing to gain by forming the Praetorian Guard, only the hope that it would help ensure a future for the Union. The kind of future her father had died for.

The past could not be changed, but the future was still malleable. With the right tools, it could be shaped into a better world for everyone. The Ave were one of those tools, and the Praetorian Guard could serve to keep that tool safe.

But how to start? Though she didn't keep up with them, she still had contact numbers for most of her men from Z-Company. She'd have to see if any of them were still near Paris.

In the meantime... she still had Dubois' number back at her apartment, didn't she? She wouldn't be calling for what he probably hoped, but he did owe her a favor.

* * *

Reid smiled, his fingers pinwheeling along the keys in a rendition of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21. Malcal, whether she knew it or not, was now an important component of Master Lelouch's New Order. She had no idea the enormity of the opportunity she was being given.

While Master Lelouch fought his wars outside the Union, the Ave and the Praetorian Guard would be eliminating dangerous elements from within, readying it to ensure a smooth transition of power once the final stage of Operation Imperium was finally enacted.

His private phone vibrated, and he paused his playing to check the message—causing another grin to light up his face.

It seemed _Louis Caron_ had finally broken under the gentle ministrations of the Shadows and given his name. Lupin would now be able to extract all of the information they needed. Once that was done, he'd be arriving to report his findings in person, which personally Reid was thankful for. He had nothing against seeing vermin like Caron in pain, but he was also a gentleman. Bloody garages strewn with teeth and fingernails weren't really his motif.

Moving into the study provided by the suite, he powered up his laptop and began browsing a number of unlisted sites on the E-Net for local black marketeers. Being partially founded by revolutionaries, the Union, and France in particular, had very loose regulations regarding ownership of firearms.

Of course, the loophole to this was that while _ownership_ was legal, sale and purchase was highly regulated. Malcal had likely only been able to keep her sidearm by stealing it after receiving her discharge.

So if he was to equip the Praetorians, he'd need to get... creative.

* * *

The apartment Leila rented in Paris' Eighth District was a large single bedroom along one of the city's wealthier streets. It was really the only financial concession she had made to her noble upbringing. Even in the Union's depression, she was still _Countess_ bloody Malcal, and she'd be damned before she went back to sharing a tiny room in the Bits with three other refugees—as she had before enlisting to gain citizenship.

Rom and Rem greeted her as she entered, sniffing her eagerly and lapping at her hands. She gave them each an affectionate stroke before moving to her kitchen. It was rather small, but efficient and well-appointed. She didn't do much cooking anyway, when she could help it.

Sure enough, pinned on the fridge door by a magnet was the napkin Dubois had given her, with his number hastily scrawled onto it after his near-death experience.

She snatched it and sat down on the couch, Rem immediately claiming her lap with his huge head as she dialed the number into the phone. Her finger hovered over the call button, but froze in indecision.

 _Should_ she involve Dubois in this? He'd seemed like a nice guy and handy in a fight, but this was a _paramilitary_ she was talking about building here. The risks, both physical and legal, were huge. Not to mention, Dubois had been in the French army. While Leila considered herself objective about that sort of thing, she'd likely be recruiting most of the Praetorians' initial recruits from her old comrades in the Foreign Legions—who _despised_ French army regulars.

The potential friction could be... significant.

But despite their short meeting, she trusted Dubois. He had a certain earnestness about him that she found endearing. And finding military-caliber men in Paris that she trusted... well, the list pretty much started and ended with Dubois at the moment.

Her finger finally made the decision.

" _Hello?_ " asked a voice after several rings and a click. It was Dubois' voice.

"Dubois, it's Leila, from last night. I—" she started before being cut off.

" _Leila,_ " said Dubois, his tone immediately turning deep and husky, " _it's been far too long. I knew that you would come for me eventually. Worry not, my sweet, for soon we shall be together and—_ "

Oh, Leila was _not_ listening to this. "Dubois."

Like a charm, the 'officer' tone made the former private stop dead in his tracks—and from the swoosh of air she heard over the phone, she was fairly certain he'd instinctively snapped to attention. She smiled to herself. It was good to know that she hadn't lost it from her Captain days.

" _Sir._ "

"I just got out of a meeting with George Price. He offered me a position and I'd like to discuss it with you in person. Have you got time?"

A snort came over her phone's speakers. " _Time? I'm a broke vet scraping by on benefits. I could pass out for a month and I don't think anybody would even notice until I stopped collecting my check. I'd say God of Clay, but its probably best to steer clear of that place for a few days, just in case. You got a spot in mind?_ "

Leila considered it. She was fairly certain that Claus and Oscar had stuck around Paris. Oscar had been her former aide, and had gotten himself a job in publishing after getting out. And Claus... last she'd heard, he'd signed on with some sort of Paris-based security company. If she could get both of them and Dubois together, it would be at least the start of something. Probably best to give the two time, in case they were busy. "Cafe Cristo, in the Seventh District. You know it?"

Dubois grunted affirmatively. " _Think so. Now?_ "

"No. I still need to get in touch with a few others. Try seven o'clock. I'm buying." She then hung up before he could protest.

* * *

It was the grim set of Lupin's jaw that clued Reid in to the fact that this would not be an enjoyable conversation. Silently, he gestured for the Shadow to take a seat across from him, and raised an expectant eyebrow.

The dark-haired German sucked his cheek in, the gesture practically radiating frustration and contemplation. Eventually, he sighed.

"Our intruders were all initiate members of a local group calling themselves the 'Guardians of Liberty'. Typical left-end radicals—protests, worker agitation, intimidation, and the like. Not really a notable group. What _should_ be concerning us is the woman who recently began supplying them with instruction, funds, and guidance. They call her 'Lady Liberty'. No name, no face, just a voice and bank account."

Reid frowned. "And she was the one who organized the attack against us?"

"Yes. Worse, she seems to have some comprehension of our broader operations. She apparently described us to them as 'an insidious threat that endangers not just Paris, but the Union itself'."

"Could she have merely been exaggerating for dramatic effect?" asked Reid, his tone dubious. It was a vague premonition, but technically accurate.

Lupin shook his head, his jaw further hardening. "I doubt it. From what our prisoners knew, she operates policlubs like the GOL across most of Europe. In addition to last night, she also claimed responsibility for the attacks in Geneva and Amsterdam. Much as the comparison grates me, the setup reminds me of our Master's prior to his emergence in Neo-Japan—only with militant left-end policlubs instead of resistance cells."

The comparison grated _Reid_ even more than Lupin. "I thought that those attacks were investigated and closed," he said. The reproach and anger in his voice was clear.

"I did as well, but we relied on the resources of the local police or hired criminal elements for those. We never leaned on any of the group members directly. The thought of them working under some sort of higher direction never occurred to us, since the incidents were so geographically distant."

"Damn it!" roared Reid as he slammed his fist down on his desk. A mistake like this could threaten the New Order, and _he_ had permitted it to happen.

He simmered in rage, finally setting it aside to focus on the dilemma. There was a shadowy woman out there with some international measure of wealth and influence sufficient to bring small policlubs under her direction, and pressure police captains into quietly releasing suspects with pending charges. This woman was at least somewhat aware of the Party's scope, and had now orchestrated three separate attacks against it in major Vox cities.

A dangerous threat, but with Geass on his side, a surmountable one. The sort of security procedures a group like this operated under would be susceptible to Geass.

"Do we have any information other than the bank account?"

"We don't even have that. Caron and his counterpart were aware that their group's leader had received a bank transfer, but they didn't know the account number. If we want it, we'll need to access their club's computer systems."

Reid considered this. Two of the Shadows assigned to him were hackers, complete with specialized implants to assist with it. They'd be able to hit the policlub's computers with ease. But once they had the number? He was rather certain that the two would be able to brute force through whatever systems were in their way to trace the account, but the number of red flags they'd trip in the process might send their target to ground.

Could they call on Master Lelouch's involuntary associates in the DGSE? Surely French Intelligence would be able to discreetly find their target... but activating sleeper agents like that could always incur costs.

Finally, the solution practically smacked him in the face.

"Put TwoDee and Black Hat on cracking the GOL systems. Also, make an appointment with the manager of the First Bank of Paris. I have a few questions about opening an account."

Lupin smiled, the expression turning his already angular face into a predatory mask. "And our prisoners?"

"They've served their purpose, and if Lady Liberty's as smart as she seems, she'll have guessed that we nabbed them for interrogation. Get a truncheon and beat them to death—then dump them somewhere they'll be found quickly. I want it to look like they didn't talk."

"Understood."

* * *

Jean Chastain took a steadying breath as his shuttle docked in one of the _Damocles_ ' dozens of VTOL hangars. Minister Philippe had given him sealed orders just this morning, assigning him as an 'administrative observer' to Emperor Zero.

A spy, in other words.

It made sense, considering the move Zero had pulled under the entire Hemicycle's noses. So he'd grabbed his go-bag and hopped onto a bullet train for Gibraltar—knowing that the rest of his essentials would be shipped after him. From there, he'd gotten in touch with Lt. General Mayer of the Union Military forces waiting to cross the Strait and arranged for a shuttle to Emperor Zero's flagship.

He was met at the ramp by a pair of uniformed woman in featureless white masks—bearing holstered assault rifles. Fucking eerie.

Then a third woman he hadn't even noticed stepped up, offering a tiny dip of a bow in greeting. She also wore a white mask, but she carried no gun and her uniform suggested administration rather than combat.

"Mr. Chastain?" The woman's tone was soft, but without a hint of emotion. Jean looked her up and down. Between her voice, outfit, and demeanor, she gave the impression of a competent secretary. "I am Ms. Black, His Majesty's adjutant. He is currently indisposed at the moment with the war council, but has set aside a room to meet with you at his earliest availability. If you will follow me..."

Jean recognized the attempt to immediately divert him, and raised a hand. "I'm afraid that is against my orders, Ms. Black. Under Minister Philippe's instructions, I am to be present at all planning and operational meetings. The Hemicycle have been kept in the dark for far too long, and as the backers of this military, they have the right to information on its activities.

The guards bristled slightly, but Black tilted her way that conveyed amusement. "Ah. But of course. This way then, if you please."

Silently, Jean marveled at the vessel around him as he was lead through it. The interior corridors were narrow, studded with hundreds of various redundant access ports and electrical breakers, but they still gave the impression of incredibly efficient design. This was craft built for a singular purpose: domination from the skies. He'd seen footage of the so-called 'Sword of Damocles' firing, so he knew exactly how deadly this battleship could be.

Zero had kept the plans to this airship confidential—not even releasing them to internal military records—and Chastain couldn't help but wonder how much time had went into designing it.

After what felt like miles of corridors packed with soldiers, mechanics, technicians, and officers, they finally reached an upper-level door flanked by a pair of stern guards brandishing rifles. Both wore armbands emblazoned with a raven perched atop a shield—the crest of Airsec, the internal police of the Union Airborne and Air Force.

A sign on the wall behind them read: ' **RESTRICTED ACCESS: GREEN LEVEL CLEARANCE OR ABOVE REQUIRED PAST THIS POINT** _'_.

Ms. Black halted and turned to Jean. She reached into a pocket of her uniform, producing what looked like a glue gun from his days in school—only it was tipped with a long needle.

"You'll require a temporary security chip to access the upper levels," she explained flatly. "Please give me your arm."

Reluctantly, Jean extended his wrist and withheld a wince as she jammed the tip of the needle in near his artery before pressing down the trigger. There was a muted, mechanical click, and she withdrew the needle.

"With that implant, you will have Blue level security access for the duration of your stay. Only Indigo and Violet areas will be restricted to you, none of which will fall under your remit from the Minister. Simply present your wrist to any scanners you encounter, and they will automatically interface with your implant. If you experience any itching or swelling past a period of forty-eight hours, report to the aft or stern medical bay for examination."

Without further explanation, Black stepped to the silent Airsec troopers and extended her left arm to the scanner they produced at her approach. A dark purple light emitted from the device, and they parted without comment as the door opened. Jean stepped up next, and the machine let off a light blue signal, permitting him access.

Glancing behind him, he watched the two masked soldiers file through one at a time, the scanner lighting the same dark purple for each of them.

He resisted the urge to narrow his eyes at the knowledge that both Zero's secretary and these masked goons bore higher level clearance than him. Was this Zero thumbing his nose at him? Chastain was a member of Minister Phillipe's _personal_ guard. There should be nothing he wasn't trusted with—but apparently in Zero's hierarchy, there were two levels above him.

It _was_ an insult, he decided. One that would be answered for when the time came.

Once inside the restricted deck, it was only a short walk to the meeting room of the war council. Jean heard the discussion long before he walked in on it.

"Respectfully, Marshal, I must disagree with that assessment. By all of our intelligence, the FPA simply lacks that level of sophistication. A few decisive strikes from the Airfleet will completely cripple their internal structure, and then they will fall apart under their own weight."

Another voice cut in. "Need I remind you, Admiral, that Prince Minister Schneizel has been providing strategic consultation to the FPA since before their founding? Even if you doubt their personal competency, _his_ is without question. That near-deathblow at the docks was the product of someone with an intimate knowledge of not only military strategy, but of the Union's weakness to public opinion. It is this constant underestimation that has enabled the FPA to get as far as they have."

"That would be a violation of the armistice," argued the first voice, a woman's with a thick French accent. "We could hold Britannia in contempt, and use this as grounds to ally with the Federation against them."

"Don't be ridiculous," countered a third. "The Federation is already on the verge of politically merging with Britannia. That's the only reason Britannia is even ostensibly holding to the treaty—as breaking it would damage their credibility with the Federation. Unless we find exact, incontrovertible proof of current Britannian-FPA collaboration, Schneizel can covertly aid them all he wants in order to weaken and delay us.

"We need to drive a wedge between them." This voice was different. Smooth, but synthesized. Imposing. Jean recognized it, even as he entered the room and observed its owner.

Emperor and High Marshal Zero of Neo-Japan sat at the far end of a circular meeting table with five others. His masked head didn't move at their entrance, but Chastain could feel his gaze on himself and Ms. Black anyway—judging and evaluating. Though he was seated in the same style of high-backed leather armchair as the others, he somehow gave the undeniable, singular impression of being seated on a throne above the rest.

The two masked female guards he'd stepped past to enter the room stayed in position outside, while the two that had been escorting him flanked the entrance from inside.

Black turned to her Emperor and bowed deeply at the waist, before gesturing to Jean. "Your Majesty, this is the honorable Jean Chastain, of Prime Minister Philippe's personal service. He is to be the Hemicycle's observer in our proceedings."

Zero stood, but did not offer any gesture of greeting. "A pleasure, Mr. Chastain," he said, his inhuman voice bringing an involuntary shudder to Jean's spine. "Welcome aboard the _Damocles_. Please, permit me to introduce you to the war cabinet."

The first was a tall, broad, and well-groomed man that Chastain knew well. "Marshal Gene Smilas, secondary commander of the Union Military," said Zero, and the man stood in acknowledgement.

Second was a thin woman wearing reading spectacles. As the only Frenchwoman, Jean recognized her as the first voice from earlier. "Admiral Legrand, commander of the Union Navy."

Third was a pot-bellied man with thinning hair, but an air of strict confidence. "General Fritz, commander of the Union Army."

"Lord-General Drakenhoff, commander of the Union Air Force." The Russian man was enormous, his monocle and delicate handlebar mustache making him look almost comical when contrasted with his brutish frame.

"And lastly, Admiral White, commander of the Union Airborne." One of Zero's people. A woman, with _very_ shapely curves squeezed into a formal military uniform designed to hide even the barest hint of flesh, completed with one of those eerie white masks. On its forehead, it bore a crest of two crossed lances, colored dark violet and shining gold. Unlike the others, she didn't even acknowledge his presence—managing to radiate cold hostility.

Ms. Black stepped past him, taking the seat on White's left—leaving only one seat free, next to Fritz. "Of course, you'll have already met Ms. Black, Head of Military Intelligence and Internal Security."

Chastain's brow furrowed as he sat down. That wasn't how _she'd_ introduced herself. But he couldn't call her on that without making a fool of himself. In his career, he had developed a very fine-tuned ability to evaluate people—and now that the curtain had been pulled back, she gave off the undeniable impression of a razor blade.

"Delightful to meet you all," he said to the table at large. "As per Minister Philippe's instructions, I am to serve as a communicative liaison between this cabinet and the Hemicycle, to better facilitate the sharing of pertinent information."

Of the seven others now seated around the table, only Admiral Legrand looked even slightly inviting. Four of the others were masked, Fritz and Drakenhoff looked irritated, and Smilas was simply unreadable.

"Once again," said Zero, "welcome, Mr. Chastain. Before we proceed with our planning, Ms. Black, perhaps you should brief our guest on the state of the North African theatre and the defense plan for the city. In detail."

Jean saw the trap coming, but was once again powerless to prevent it without compromising his role as an observer. "Gladly, Your Majesty." Ms. Black made no attempt to hide the sadistic pleasure in her voice as she activated the HCT embedded in the center of the table.

The hours pass in a blur of statistical outlays, charts, holographic projections, and graphs.

The food supplies for the entire city of Tangiers. How long they will last in the event of a siege. Where the food is stored. The durability of these silos, buildings and granaries. What weapons they can withstand. How they appear from the air. Ration projections. Sustainable food ration planning. Unsustainable food ration planning, with appended lists of estimated attrition casualties. Where food riots are likely to break out if starvation becomes a reality.

Water filtration centers. How many are required to be fully operational in order to supply the entire population. Which ones are likely to be destroyed first, in the event of hostile incursion. Underground systems where water is currently stored. Disused wellsprings that might be tapped in times of great need.

Estimates of disease if the city is shelled and civilian casualties are too heavy to be dealt with efficiently. Types of disease. Symptoms. Severity. Risk of contagion.

Lists of medical facilities. Endless, endless manifests of how each one is supplied as of the most recent stock reports, to the most minute detail. New stock-checks are constantly performed. Updated information cycled in all the while, even as they reviewed the previous batch.

Civilian factions, friendly and hostile. Temperament and attitude. Headquarter locations. Dossiers on their leaders. Projections for their respective reactions to various changing circumstances both within the city and the campaign at large. Plans for undermining or eliminating problem ones.

Union Garrison Forces, permanently assigned to the city's defense. Who leads the individual sector forces. Their weapons. Their ammunition. Their training regime, their training schedule. Their proximity to precious industrial targets.

Union Army numbers. God, what numbers. Regiments, their officers, their nationalities, their live fire training accuracy records, their citations, their shames, their honors. Their insignia. Their weapon and ammunition supplies. Their access to armor units, ranging from light scout vehicles to Raptor strike groups and Longbow heavy artillery batteries.

The Army figures alone take two hours to file through. And this, Black assures him, is merely the overview.

VTOL platforms come next. Construction of dedicated city defense landing platforms, civilian sites already in use by the Air Force, and civilian sites currently in use for the importation of essential supplies from Airborne logistics cutters. The access to and from these sites was critical, regarding aerial reinforcements making it into the city from across the Strait, refugees making their way out, and the enemy capturing them as bases if a siege begins.

Air superiority. The numbers of light fighters, heavy fighters, and bombers at their disposal. The training records of every pilot and officer among the Union 1st Skyborne. The projections move on to simulated displays of how long the air forces can deny enemy air incursion, and what situations would merit the use of bombers beyond the city perimeter. On and on, the simulations roll in flickering holographic imagery.

Tangiers heavy defense emplacements. What anti-air turrets are being stationed in the city, and where they would be. Their optimal firing arcs. The make and caliber of each barrel and shell. The number of crew appointed to man these positions. Estimated projections on damage they can inflict upon an enemy, run through countless scenarios of varying FPA offensive strength. The teams resupplying their ammunition, and from where that ammunition comes. Routes from the docks.

And the city's factories themselves. Industrial plants ready for conversion to military manufacturing. Other factories already producing necessary materials such as steel. Which industrial sites are the most valuable, the most profitable, the most reliable and the most likely to suffer assault in a protracted siege.

The docks. The Tangiers Docks, the most strategically essential element of the entire city. Projections for amounts of supplies and soldiers able to be ferried across, and time estimates. Proposed circumstances under which access across the strait would be impossible. Importation and embarkation platforms and troop ships and maintenance requirements and fisherman complaints and petitions arguing over civilian docking rights and warehouses appropriated as barracks for soldiers and complaints from quartermasters and dock-officers and…

Jean endured this for nine hours.

 _Nine. Hours_.

* * *

Leila adjusted her jacket for the fifth time since sitting down. She took a slow, delicate sip of her martini, trying to work out exactly how she would get her three guests on board with her mad plans.

The most uncertain would most likely be Lt. Oscar Hammel, her former aide-de-camp. Before the annexation, he'd been Scottish—with both the curse and fortune of having been on a business trip to Paris when the Britannian Liberation Army invaded. But when bloody Minister Caron recognized the annexation, his citizenship became null and he was forced to enlist. Though coldly logical, he and Leila shared very similar philosophies. If anyone would understand her reasoning, it would be him.

Her senior NCO, 1st Sergeant Claus Warwick, like her, had rafted across the Channel. He'd managed the feat of being iron hand _and_ velvet glove to Z-Company. When they'd spent three months trapped behind enemy lines without supplies during the Gulf Conflict, she knew that he'd talked the men down from mutiny at least half a dozen times.

He was loyal to the core, that she knew, but he was also apparently gainfully employed. Just because his formed commander was asking, didn't mean he'd throw that away to sign onto her insane paramilitary. If he did, though, she knew that most of Z-Company would follow. Her men had respected her for her ability to keep them alive despite their suicidal orders, but they had all _adored_ Claus.

And Dubois? Well, he was skilled, he owed her, and she trusted him for some inexplicable reason, but Claus in particular would be unlikely to take his recruitment well. So long as Price came through with the funding he'd promised, just the promise of a paycheck would probably be enough to win him over.

It was more friction she was worried about there...

"Captain," said a low, but warm and respectful voice behind her. She almost jumped, but reigned her nerves in at the last second.

"Oscar," she greeted with a familiar exasperation, "what did I tell you about sneaking up on people?"

Her former aide stepped to the chair across from her, but sent an instinctive glance for permission to her. She nodded, mentally filing that he apparently hadn't adjusted to civilian life well—if he was still operating within the chain of command. That was good.

Oscar Hammel was tall and gaunt, with only bare hints of military-honed muscle in his frame. It did seem that at least he had adjusted to a longer, civilian-length hairstyle though for his black curls. He still wore those _ful vue_ eyeglasses on his hawkish nose.

"Apologies, Captain," he said simply.

Leila sighed. "Leila, Oscar. Leila. We're civilians now."

"Of course, Captain." He diligently ignored her huff, his eyes glancing to the touchscreen installed in the wall beside their table. With a few decisive pokes, he ordered a simple coffee.

"I forgot that you don't drink," said Leila as she took a sip of her martini. It had been nearly two years since they'd seen one another face-to-face.

Oscar shrugged. "That rotgut swill Warwick used to brew didn't help. Leave it to him to attempt fermentation of MRE rations."

Bile welled up inside Leila's throat at the memory of _that_ unfortunate incident, before she choked out a chuckle. He'd nearly poisoned an entire platoon before Oscar had the hooch discreetly seized and burned. High Command had been convinced that it was an act of enemy sabotage since none of the men fessed up to the medics that examined them afterwards.

She grinned to herself, as did Oscar after a moment. Ever the erudite, he retrieved a small paperback from his omnipresent messenger's bag and opened it to a dogeared page. Illuminated by the candle at the table's center, she caught the title. ' _Per Angusta_ _, by Zero.'_

Her brow furrowed as she remembered Dubois mentioning him half-jokingly at the God of Clay as a potential candidate for Emperor. As with most of Europe, she'd been intrigued by the masked Emperor that had bloodied Britannia's nose, stolen their Sakuradite, and seated himself within the _Central_ Hemicycle, within just three months.

But these days, aside from Vox news publications running constant criticism against his appointment to Grand Marshal, the much-celebrated news of his surprise invasion had been the only word.

What sort of man _was_ Emperor Zero?

"May I see that?"

Oscar didn't even blink as he passed her the book. He was still in the first chapter, barely past the foreword. She read the passage with curiosity.

" _Evil and chaos are written into the fundamental nature of the universe. The world spins in pain. Human nature, like animal instinct, is at its most base level, savagery. Without the higher reasoning of morality, man is evil by default—killing and fornicating, only guided by animal instinct. Higher moral reasoning is something that must be deliberately exercised, by choice._

 _The core failing of democracy is its denial of this fact—instead claiming that man is inherently good, and will act in the best interest of society as a whole if given the option—since ultimately the benefit of society is to his benefit as well. As reasoned above, this can be the case in an individual, but is all but impossible for an entire society. That logical connection requires a leap in delayed-gratification that few can grasp in abstract. For democracy to function, the majority of humans must be good, by choice._

 _As the Democratic Experiment of the European Union has demonstrated, this is an invalid premise._

 _Therefore, the most sound solution is to go in the opposite direction: a monodominant government, where only one enlightened and skilled ruler must be good—able to objectively decide the course that will benefit society the most._

 _Of course, the question then arises as to how this government should be established? Both Britannia and the Chinese Federation feature an Emperor or Empress in their hierarchies, but only the former is truly monodominant—with the Federation being a thinly-veiled oligarchy. Britannia's crippling flaw is its long-standing Darwinistic philosophy, which entirely undermines the intended civilizing institution of government by establishing that backwards animal instinct as a cultural virtue. It was Emperor Richard ti Britannia who initiated said policy in the early twentieth century, and doomed his culture._

 _And this demonstrates the damning dilemma of all monodominant governments throughout history: with such centralized power, the failure or success of such a structure depends almost entirely on the quality of its leader. So how can a people consistently ensure an enlightened and skilled ruler? The answers are threefold..._ "

Leila read on. It was like the pages were some sort of gravitational black hole, drawing her eyes into them. She couldn't look away. She couldn't stop reading. Harsh truths and scathing criticism were flawlessly woven in with uplifting ideology and logical outlines for solutions.

It was simply the recorded thought process of a brilliant, inspiring mind as it mentally took apart the structure of the world around her, and reconstructed it as a paradise.

Never had the tragic plight of humanity been so clear as it was in that moment—laid bare by Emperor Zero's pen. But never had the solutions seemed more obvious either, written in clear and concise points in the words following.

Mr. Price had mentioned Emperor Zero during his speech at the party. Had... had _this_ been what he read, that inspired the party? That convinced him of the _need_ for an Emperor in Europe?

It would explain the fundamental _rightness_ that the Ave brought to her. The scales had finally fallen from her eyes, and what she saw both fascinated and horrified her. The world was rotten in a thousand tiny ways, all bubbling away evilly and stripping it of its essence. But there was _hope_. There was _healing_. There was a way to set the world right, and if done properly it could stick for millennia.

As humanity marched on, it entered increasingly stark periods of strife and triumph. Death and prosperity. Every time it cycled, the strife grew worse, and the triumph greater. Eventually, reasoned Emperor Zero, the wheel would stop under its own power, and humanity would find itself permanently in one spoke or the other.

With an Emperor, the right one could be ensured. But reaching it would also require the most devastating war the world would ever see. The Great War. The Final War.

Leila thought about it. Throughout the years, the nations of the world _had_ been slowly gravitating towards some sort of singularity, hadn't they? When the Union was founded, there had been _hundreds_ of powers throughout the world.

Now? There were three. And the war between them was coming.

She recalled a quote from an antique piece of literature her father had kept—a relic from Washington's Folly. It was a pamphlet distributed by a man called Thomas Paine, calling for action against the proto-Britannian government, before the Reforms. The first sentence had stuck with her for years afterwards, and came to her once more as she read Zero's words.

" _These are the times that try men's souls._ "

"He got you too, huh?"

Oscar's voice snapped her out of the trance. He was looking at her from across the table, sipping his coffee. That she hadn't even noticed it being dropped off spoke to her absorption in the book.

"After the news yesterday, I hit up the local bookshop and picked up a copy of his first book, _Vincit Qui_. Rather interesting book on tactics and strategy, but it was the hints of philosophy bled into it that made me pick up _Per Angusta_ this morning. Had to wait in a line for it actually. Apparently, since yesterday, sales have skyrocketed as word of mouth started going around about it."

Leila chuckled, reluctantly handing the book back to Oscar. "It's funny. This actually ties into what I wanted to talk about with you and Claus. I—"

"Speak of the Devil," murmured Oscar, his gaze drifting past Leila's shoulder. She turned, and saw Claus Warwick making his way towards them from the entrance. He was tall like Oscar, but heavily muscled and his blonde hair was still in a regulation crew cut. A dog end hung from his lips, sending gentle wafts of smoke into the air around him.

He also wore a tan military uniform, but not one from the Foreign Legion. She spied a black and gold crest on its shoulder, but didn't recognize it.

"Captain," he said lightly as he spotted Oscar. "I had no idea that the Legions had restrained you so. I thought that you were something of a prude, but here you are, wining and dining two men at the same time. Most bold of you."

"Three, actually," interjected a third voice. Leila, Claus, and Oscar turned around to see that Dubois had approached from the other entrance, and was now standing at her side, eyeing the other two men curiously. "Glad to see you again, Leila. And under much better circumstances."

She smiled back at him. "And you as well, Dubois." She turned to address both him and Warwick. "Please, both of you, take a seat and order yourselves something. This is going to take some explanation, and I'd like for all of us to get familiar with one another before I broach it."

Conversation passed easily for the next hour, with each of the former Legionaries catching the others up on their path after their discharge. Oscar was now a junior contributor for the Paris branch of Acta Diurna, a Pax-friendly news network. It suited his talent with the written word well. Through a friend of a friend, Claus on the other hand had signed on with a mercenary outfit called the Wild Geese. He'd only been back in Paris for a few months now, after their contract in Neo-Japan ended.

"Gotta say, for a former terrorist, Zero still paid better than any client we'd had before. Can see why the Japs made him their Emperor."

Oscar snorted. "It probably had more to do with his liberating them from nearly a decade of Britannian tyranny, and then bargaining his way into a seat on the Central Hemicycle."

"Semantics," shot back Claus, airily.

"I don't think that word means what you think it means."

Leila looked on at the familiar bickering with a touch of forgotten fondness. Sure her life hadn't been in danger since leaving the Foreign Legion, but at the same time, she'd been so... alone.

She hated to cut it short, but the restaurant would be closing within the hour, and she wanted to get this out of the way.

The table's attention immediately shifted to her as she cleared her throat. She took a deep breath, bringing up the familiar essence of command that had kept her and her men alive in the Legion.

"Oscar, Claus, Dubois, I'd like to start by thanking you all for meeting me here. I asked you to come because I was offered a job today, and I would like to offer you positions as well. Tell me, are you familiar with the Ave Imperator party?"

Claus shook his head, but Oscar nodded hesitantly. "I think I've seen their guys distributing pamphlets. Want something like a European Emperor or some such, right?"

"Essentially," confirmed Leila. "Dubois is a member, and as of today, so am I. After a violent incident at their meeting last night, at which I was present and forced to shoot an attacker, I met with the party founder this morning. The two of you will know that I am not naive or gullible, but this man..."

She still struggled to verbalize the exact nature of the feelings Price instilled in her with terms that her two former comrades would understand.

"He's _right_. I can't put it better any other way without you having met him. Europe is in crisis. Britannia is preparing to invade us the second our treaty expires. The Chinese are set to join them in a personal union that will see us swallowed whole. The FPA have taken nearly half of our territory from us. Unemployment is staggering, starvation is rampant, and the Hemicycle does _nothing._ "

The last word was practically spat, surprising even Leila herself with its sudden vehemence. She hadn't realized her own bitterness to the Union's state.

"We need an end to the bickering, to the factions. We need _unity_. We need a leader like Napoleon, to bring everyone together before we are destroyed by both internal and external threats. A singular will to guide the Union."

Hesitantly, she eyed the others. Claus and Oscar seemed engrossed, and Dubois looked positively _enthralled_. Emboldened, she continued.

"That is what the party seeks to achieve. But it is under threat. Last night we were attacked by a hostile policlub, and Dubois here was nearly killed. There have been dozens of attacks on party meetings throughout the Union, and the police answer to the Hemicycle—who don't want a third party to arise. If it is to survive long enough to save the Union, the party must be protected. This morning, George Price, the party's leader, charged me with organizing that protection."

Claus and Oscar both looked shocked, and she perfectly understood why. Back when she'd been their commander, she had often been quite vocal about her disgust with the Union's political system. To have her suddenly recruiting them for a political _paramilitary_ was... stunning, to say the least.

Oscar's face turned cautious. "Captain," he said softly, "are you sure about this? I remember your opinions from when we served. You'd have shot anyone who said that one day you'd be a member of a policlub. Are you absolutely certain that you're not getting a bit, er, carried away?"

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. Then she opened them.

"Yes."

"Good enough for me," chuckled Claus easily. And it probably was. Though highly skilled and oddly charismatic, Claus wasn't exactly a complex man. He'd put you in a chokehold for drinking his last beer, before turning around and breaking the knees of someone who crossed you in a bar. "What do you say, Hammel?"

Leila watched her former aide waiver. He was on the verge of agreeing, and she knew how to give him the final push. "Oscar," she said, channeling every ounce of inspiring officer into her voice. "When we were in the Legions, you faced death every single day for a nation that didn't give a damn about you. If you join and decide that you disagree, you're free to leave—but I'm offering you the chance to fight for something that _matters._ To actually make a bloody _difference_ with your life."

"I'm in," he said eventually, the candlelight reflecting harshly off of his glasses as he looked up. "I don't know this party, Captain, but I know you. And that will suffice."

Her gaze turned to the last member. "Dubois?"

He smiled sideways. "Do you have to ask? You saved my life last night. I'm with you no matter how long this road ends up being... Captain."

* * *

Sancia looked up from her book at a knock on the door of her and her sisters' quarters. "Come in!"

In stepped Jeremiah, ducking slightly to fit under the frame. Alice, Dalque, and Lucretia all stopped their respective activities to turn their attention on him. It was rare to see the immense knight far away from his liege. Especially in their quarters.

"His Majesty has orders for you," he stated simply. Ah, that explained it. "Jean Chastain has been sent to spy on us for the Prime Minister. You are to return the favor. Rotate shifts, but one of you will be within sight of him at all times, with the exception of his bunk, which already has surveillance devices set up in it."

"Understood," acknowledged Sancia with a sharp nod. The notion of a pathetic worm like Philippe having the sheer, unadulterated _gall_ of sending a man to spy on Master Lelouch... it angered her. She did not love him like most of the other women in his life, not romantically anyway, but he was still the center of her life. From the moment he had rescued her and her sisters from that sterile hell of the Geass Order, their lives and loyalty had belonged to Master Lelouch.

"Rules of engagement?" asked Dalque, cracking her knuckles.

Jeremiah smirked at the promise of violence. "No escalation, just do what he does. He starts trouble, you answer. He gets petty, you get petty. He gets physical with you—"

"He ends up in the medical bay," finished Alice.

"Try to avoid that, if at all possible, but Master Lelouch won't shed a tear if you have to get rough with him. Just no permanent damage, and certainly no death. Geass can cover any multitude of sins, but not death."

The four sisters once again nodded. A body _would_ be rather difficult to explain to the Hemicycle.

"As His Majesty commands," they intoned in unison.

* * *

"Why don't you just Geass him?" whined Mao, her head resting in Lelouch's lap as he double-checked the critical reports before they broke tether and made for Oran.

He smiled affectionately, stroking her hair in a way that made her sigh with content. Mao was always both the easiest and hardest to please of his consorts. "Did you happen to notice his tie pin?" he asked simply.

"No," she said, confused. "Why would I?"

"I didn't either. But the screeners in the Green Checkpoint did. It's a wireless bug. Philippe's probably hoping that I'll say something incriminating to or around Chastain, so he'll have an excuse to strip me of my position. Sayoko already tried to hit him with a bug killer during the meeting, but it was still broadcasting when he went back through the checkpoint. I'll need to work out exactly how many surveillance devices he has in play before I'll be able to safely remove him."

Mao stirred restlessly, digging further into his lap like a kitten. "And until then?" she asked, the anger and affront clear in her tone.

Lelouch grinned down at her. "Until then, I make sure he understands that he's not welcome in my Airfleet."

* * *

 _[End Chapter]_

* * *

 **And welcome back, my lovely readers. Neolyph here with more Darwin. This chapter was mostly Leila-centric, but we'll be getting more from Lelouch and his crew next chapter. Once again, thanks for reading, and drop a review if you've got any comments or criticism. Now, for reviews!**

 **Azzzimoth:** I've been searching for a role for Milly. She serves a purpose, but not really on an active military campaign. I've been considering utilizing her for Union politics, but it's something I'm still banging out.

 **The Man Sitting Under the Tree:** George Price is Diethard Reid with a small amount of plastic surgery. Apologies if that was confusing.

 **Generation Zero:** I'll be working other European leaders into the story once they become relevant. I'm not George R.R Martin though, so I struggle to keep up with the ensemble cast I'm building. A sort of Cold War US/Soviet proxy war was what I was going for with Schneizel and Lelouch—both in China and Africa. For his character, the image in my mind was 'The White King'. If Lelouch did absolutely nothing, Schneizel's world would be very nice, but it would also be too slow of a process. Kaguya's rule of Neo-Japan is largely untroubled, mostly because they just got out from under Britannia's jackboots, and are relishing their Independence—not wanting to mess it up. There will be problems in Neo-Japan, but not yet. Leila did agree hastily, but I hope the background from this chapter explains why. And as you see, she _does_ have friends in the military. Her political inexperience will be a problem, but her job isn't to be a politician, necessarily. That's Reid's job.

 **Guest:** I imagine Philippe as a sort of Neville Chamberlain on bitch pills. He's a good peacetime leader, but he has _no_ idea how to handle a crisis. All he wants are for the problems to go away, and in his opinion Zero isn't helping by escalating matters without any sort of committee discussion, merely making him look bad.

 **M8forReal:** Mind if I ask what turned you off in the summary? I've had a few reviewers mention that it initially discouraged them, but they still loved the story. I don't want to lose potential readers with an inaccurate summary.

 **GJMEGA:** I was just referring to if you sort by 'Favorites', I'm now on the first page.

 **Robert Harrison:** What can I say? Looked at Lelouch's persona and tell me he doesn't have his own Legions of Terror

 **TidusFFX1997:** I ranted extensively about this in an earlier AN. Minus the racism, I'm using the rise of dictators like Hitler and Mussolini as a sort of guide for the rise of Lelouch, since they're the most readily available, modern examples.

 **TigerJacob:** Good to hear. I'm trying to keep up with the ensemble cast, but it's starting to get tricky.


	23. Chapter 5: Newton's Third Law

**Act 2**

 _Ave Imperator_

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Newton's Third Law**

 _"Friends, subjects, and countrymen, I stand before you today to announce a great change in our national policy. As is well known, our European alliance lays in a time of great peril. The enemy we shall soon face is greater than any in our Union's history, as are our own divisions. For one hundred and nine years, I fully acknowledge that Russia has contributed to this wretched state of affairs—following the Compromise of 1919. We withdrew from politics, acting only for Russia's interests._

 _But no more..._

 _My people, I have seen the path that our Union must take if we are to weather the coming storm. I have decided to place my support behind the platform of a party. But it is not the Vox, nor is it the Pax. It is not with the French, nor the Germans._

 _It is with the Union, and it is the Ave Imperator party._

 _No doubt you will consider this decision sudden, perhaps even hasty. But I can assure you that I have never been more sure. Let glorious Russia be the first nation to dedicate itself to our Union's salvation. Let us act as one, to secure a future for us all. Let the future we build for our children in the coming years be one of peace and unity, than of war and internal strife._

 _My faithful citizens, I leave your opinion on this party to you. Visit your local branch and decide for yourselves. My mind is clear, as is my path. For the good of the Union, there must be a European Emperor."_

 _—[Introductory passage from Tsar Alexander's famous 'Declaration of Impetus', August 9, 2028. Available for public inspection courtesy of the Imperial Records Office.]_

* * *

 _[September 7, 2028]_

 _[Five weeks later]_

* * *

"Building clear!"

" _Building clear!_ "

Corporal Ivan poked his head back out into the war-torn streets of Port Said, aiming his rifle down the desolate avenue. After a moment, Sergeant Zimmer and his stick emerged from the opposite building to take up similar positions. About twenty meters overhead, _Marie_ emitted the low hum of LIFT engines as she scanned the area.

"This block's clear," called Zimmer, almost shouting to be heard over the sounds of pitched skirmishes throughout the city, even with their helmets' integrated comms. "Two more before we hit the canal! Watch your asses! Reports say the Desert Rats are launching ambushes instead of direct engagements! Corporal, take point on the left!"

Confirming the order, Ivan dashed forward to the nearest cover—a burned-out husk of rusted metal that must have been a car some months ago, before the FPA had let the city fall to decay and lawlessness through their selective negligence. Yuri and Bernard slid in next to him a moment later. They were in a lower-class commercial section of the city, with endless strip malls full of pawn shops, laundromats, and liquor stores, their signs all bearing evidence of hasty redubbing from French to Egyptian Arabic.

On the left end of the street, an abandoned old-school gasoline station made up one block, and a discount clothing outlet occupied the other. On the right were two squat warehouses constructed from heavy steel. They looked to have been built as long-term storage for items brought in from the canal.

"Lets move quick and mark off that gas station," Ivan ordered tersely. He didn't like it. The run-up was exposed, and gas pumps weren't exactly the safest cover in a war zone.

Yuri and Bernard nodded their understanding. "On you," said Bernard.

Exhaling deeply, Ivan squatted, feeling the artificial muscles of his EXO suit coil in tune with his real ones. Then, in one charged burst, he sprinted across the open street and dove in through the station's shattered glass facade. He rolled in a practiced movement, bringing his rifle to bear on the interior. The rest of his stick followed a few moments later, one at a time.

Immediately, they began searching the station with rapid efficiency. Between Tangiers, Oran, Algiers, Tunis, Tripoli, Benghazi, Cairo, and now Port Said, they had gotten _very_ good at it.

Across the street, Zimmer, Hans, and Hugo began stacking up on the warehouse. Hans produced a breaching shotgun, aiming it at the heavy locking mechanism of the door.

An _inferno_ blinded Ivan as the warehouse door exploded outwards violently, the wave of heat singing his eyebrows and burning his eyes. He instinctively dove into cover behind the station's counter as streams of bullets whizzed in his direction through the sudden aperture. The rest of his stick leapt in after him, and the three huddled behind the counter as the store around them was sprayed with enemy fire.

"Fuck me!" Ivan cried, before activating his comm. "Sarge, are you alright?"

Static was his only answer.

"Hugo! Hans! Please respond!"

 _Static._

Even as grief welled up, compartmentalization, training, and battle instincts took over. He switched his channel to the command frequency. "Lt. Sokolov, come in."

This time, he did get an answer. Sokolov's accented French chimed back immediately, concern clear. " _Corporal Ivan, Zimmer and his stick just went offline. Status?_ "

Yuri and Bernard returned fire at the French East African 'Desert Rat' soldiers charging out from the smoking warehouse, forcing them back inside. Bullets pinged all throughout the station, but thankfully none were capable of penetrating their cover. "Zimmer and his stick are null. Taking substantial small arms fire from a pocket of FPA soldiers. Requesting fire command of our Chariot."

" _Granted. Sending it to support now, and transferring fire command to you. Also giving you operational command of your squad. Eliminate this pocket, clear through to the canal, and then evac in the Chariot. One Sin?_ "

Exhaling in a mental exercise, Ivan nodded to himself. "One Grace."

Receiving Sokolov's order, _Marie_ swooped in between the two forces, her belly-mounted HMG turret targeting the FPA soldiers with mechanical coldness. Ivan glanced up and manually switched off his helmet's Select Sound Filter so that he could hear the Desert Rats die, his eyes hardening in fury. Three damn good men had just fallen, and he'd see them avenged.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Three Desert Rats were pulped by the high-caliber HMG rounds. Crack. Crack. Crack. And three more fell backwards, their bodies collapsing into the cloud of smoke generated by the explosion. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. C—

Something on a wire shot from the smoke and collided against the LEV's AEGIS. The projectile bounced off with a red sizzle, before ballooning and exploding in the manner typical to items affected by an RL-Shield. But Ivan recognized the object, and swore.

"KMF! Fuck!"

Evidently _Marie_ 's crew recognized the danger as well, as the Chariot shot backwards wildly, but it wasn't enough. Not one, but _four_ Britannian Sutherlands emerged from the warehouse, painted in the Desert Rats' red and white colors.

Grim satisfaction turned to horror as the four Knightmares pounced on the Landing-Escort-Vehicle.

 _Marie_ tried to evade, but three of them kept her pinned with coordinated barrages of explosive KMF-AR fire—rocking her about viciously. She tried to return fire with her autocannon, but it was designed for anti-infantry, not Sutherland armor, and the shells failed to penetrate. Ivan could only watch in impotently as the fourth Sutherland tracked the LEV with its shoulder-braced 120mm cannon, like a hyena waiting for its fellows to wear the prey down, before it went for the kill. Then it finally happened.

The AEGIS flickered one, twice, then died. A moment later, a HEAT shell ensured that _Marie_ and her crew did as well.

Like a volcano erupting, the street was engulfed by the unnatural iridescent pink of burning Sakuradite, and Ivan was forced to duck back down to avoid being caught in the fiery rain.

As he lay there on the station's filthy tiled floor, for a moment, everything became almost unnaturally quiet. Even the distant sounds of combat faded to a dull ringing. He looked across the floor to Yuri and Bernard, and verified that neither of them were faring better than he. After a steadying breath, he dared a glance outside.

He found himself face to face with a Sutherland's Factsphere, as it scanned the interior.

" _FUCKING LEG IT!"_

The words accidentally came out in Russian, instead of the standard French, but both of his squadmates seemed to understand his meaning perfectly fine. The three were already halfway to the back door by the time the Sutherland withdrew and began spraying the inside of the gas station. The light anti-personnel rounds shredded the shelves around them, but miraculously they were still in one piece when Ivan's armored shoulder slammed against the fire exit—blasting it clear out of its frame.

Further continuing their lucky streak, the burning Sakuradite outside the gas station chose that moment to travel down the lines and detonate the volatile tanks beneath. A second, earth-shaking explosion sent Ivan and his stick careening away, scraping along the pavement for several yards as flaming concrete peppered the area around them.

...

...

...

...

" _—rt! Damn it, Corporal, report!"_

Dazedly, Ivan slowly staggered to his feet, absently retrieving the rifle that had flown away during the blast. They were now in a vacant lot behind the gas station—completely obscured by a cloud of pitch-black smoke by this point.

He tapped the side of his helmet, manually activating his comm. A few choking coughs stayed his speech, but eventually he managed to wheeze a report out. "Still alive, Lieutenant. Came in to conflict with four enemy KMFs. Our Chariot is down, repeat, our Chariot is down. Unsure of current enemy armor state—"

Then he saw them. Illuminated through the smoke were three open Factspheres, leering like Satanic idols.

"Update: Three components of enemy armor still intact. Commencing tactical withdrawal."

Dirt kicked up around his feet as Sutherland anti-infantry rounds once more littered the area around him—even as he, Yuri, and Bernard fled as fast as their EXOs could propel them. He almost screamed when one bullet ricocheted into the square of his back, embedding itself deep in the armor plating and nearly penetrating the sensitive nerves of his spine.

His breath was too short in his lungs to reply as they sprinted through alley, building, and street in order to evade the pursuing Knightmares, but their Lieutenant kept up a constant stream of updates.

" _Have feed on you from the_ _Sigrún. Fire support and close-air dangerous with enemy in such near proximity. Attempting to source anti-KMF units."_

Running. Dodging. Running.

" _Nearby infantry units unavailable. Searching for re-taskable armor."_

Dodging. Running. Dodging.

Running. Dodging. Running.

" _Available armor found. Inbound in thirty seconds. Find somewhere to duck and cover."_

Ivan needed no other encouragement, weaving his way into another canal-side alley. Yuri and Bernard were hot on his heels as he kicked in his seventh locked door and ushered them inside. One of their pursuers, obviously tired of the chase, fired a single KMF-AR round into the aperture as they entered.

It was only the EXO suits that saved their lives as an assault rifle shell designed to kill tanks detonated almost point blank. Worse than the gas station, he and his squad once again were violently blown away. Ivan landed on his neck in a way that he knew would have killed him were it not for the EXO's reinforcing properties. Still, that didn't make it feel any rosier, and his vision blackened. His ears rang like a gong, and he could feel a sickly wetness in them that he knew was blood.

Though he later blamed his concussion for his recollection of what happened next, in his memory, he had not been rescued by a friendly KMF.

He had been rescued by a flaming red comet that streaked down from the sky before shifting into an crimson archangel of vengeance.

 _Eyes glowing like blue fire, it had shrieked down from above and cut the cockpit of the first frame in half before even touching the ground._

 _The remaining two attempted to turn their guns on the wrathful seraphim, but to no avail. In the close quarters of the alley, all they succeeded in doing was offering their arms for the angel's shining claw to slice through._

 _One of them had its back to the alley entrance, and attempted to eject. Its cockpit had barely decoupled from the frame before the crimson savior's clawed hand shot out once more and reduced it to slag. As it did so, the archangel swung with its other hand and cut the final Knightmare in half with a glowing longsword. It then turned those frightening, baleful eyes onto Ivan and—_

* * *

 _[September 9, 2028]_

* * *

Ivan awoke in the _Damocles_ ' medical bay two days later to find the Union flag waving proudly over Port Said's city hall.

Lieutenant Sokolov, Yuri, and Bernard visited him shortly after waking, to explain the operation's outcome. He was told that Commander Kozuki herself had briefly diverted from guarding Emperor Zero's landhead to save his squad. Zimmer, Hans, and Hugo's bodies had been recovered from the warehouse. Bastards, every single one of the Desert Rats. Apparently, the warehouse had been one of dozens planted throughout the city, stocked with equipment and supplies for urban warfare.

Taking the port city had been costly, moreso than any other operation in the war thus far. Three hundred casualties, and over a dozen Chariots lost to surprise attacks from hidden pockets of Desert Rats. It was the birth pain that had long been denied to the Airborne.

The Desert Rats, it seemed, had done better than their Spanish North African brethren when it came to strategy. They'd finally realized after watching the Black Stars lose six divisions in a row, and then losing one themselves in Cairo, that the Airborne weren't to be taken head-on. Thus, when Zero turned his gaze towards Port Said, they'd disguised all of their installations and dug in.

But at the end of the day, the Airborne had won out. They had done it. The Northern Union Beachhead now stretched across the entire Mediterranean coast. It would only be a matter of days now before Operation Notos commenced.

"So what now, sir?"

Sokolov smiled, clapping a firm but gentle hand on Ivan's shoulder.

"Now, Corporal? We wait about four days for the Army to get into their positions, then we begin steamrolling down the _east_ coast, until we can finally relieve our boys down south. In the meantime, enjoy your ground-leave."

* * *

Schneizel glanced up from the report at his faithful assistant. " _Another_ terrorist attack on survey teams in Area Seven?"

"Indeed, Your Highness," said Kanon, the perplexity on his cherubic face clear as day. In his search for sufficiently-sized deposits of Sakuradite, Schneizel had been sending survey teams further and further into Britannia's empire. Area Seven, the easternmost region of South America, was normally one of Britannia's more pacified territories. The only distinguishing incidents in decades had been some moderate unrest following Zero's emboldening humiliation of Britannia in Area Eleven.

Guinevere had assured him that the region was under control, and all official reports of attempted resistance had ceased. Yet private reports of small incidents continued to seep in. Minor nobility assassinated, corporate interests sabotaged, and strategic information leaking that passed through the desks of his moles in the Union.

Schneizel frowned deeply. The problems were worse than even that, it seemed. Carine had attempted a similar intelligence blackout in Area Eleven, and that fiasco had not only seen Britannia's military might crippled, but also three of his half-sisters dead. He wouldn't let Guinevere's pride generate another incident like that. "Put a Ministerial order through to the Area's DIS. They're going to begin briefing me directly."

Kanon nodded in understanding. "Yes, Your Highness. Should I arrange for a consultation with Princess Guinevere?"

He considered this for a moment. Clearly, his half-sister was worried enough about the unrest in her Area that she was attempting to conceal it even from him. Had she failed to stamp out the resistance groups that had sprung up in it, inspired by Zero? Attacking the specialized and _very_ expensive Sakuradite survey teams did seem like something out of his playbook.

Between attempting to find Sakuradite stores large enough for the Britannian military to tap, guiding the FPA against Zero's army in Africa, and negotiating tooth-and-nail with the Chinese Eunuchs in the Federation, the last thing Schneizel needed at the moment was an ill-inspired uprising in the South American region.

"Set it up," he sighed. "Be polite and permit her to pick the time, but ensure she understands that it is not a request."

"Understood, Your Highness."

Schneizel took a sip of tea as another thought occurred to him. Perhaps he was drawing too many similarities between the two situations, but his second failing in Area Eleven had been sending reinforcements too late.

"Has a commander been appointed to the First Imperial Air Legion yet?"

Kanon slipped a secure datapad from his pocket and fiddled with it for several moments. "Just last night, Your Highness. Princess Marrybell was given overall command of the fleet, with her Knight Oldrin Zevon given the Air Marine command."

The news made Schneizel crack his first smile of the day. He'd taken a private, personal interest in Marrybell about eight years prior, as a way to distract himself from the grief of Lelouch's disappearance.

Though technically an only child, he'd grown close to several of his half-siblings during his days in Pendragon. Lelouch, Cornelia, and Clovis primarily. Of the three, only the last was still alive. Lelouch though...

Lelouch had always been the younger brother Schneizel had never possessed. Every bit as intelligent, cunning, and ambitious as Schneizel, but lacking the callous cruelty many of the royals developed as an unfortunate side effect of their unearned status. Privately, when he ascended to Emperor, Schneizel had once planned to make Lelouch his Prime Minister. Cornelia would have been his chief general, and Clovis would have kept the nobility occupied..

But then, ten years ago, Lelouch and Nunnally had disappeared off the face of the earth.

It had hit Schneizel hard. The tragedy of the mysterious vanishing, and his impotence to investigate it. No leads, no evidence. Nothing. It had been the first time in his life that he'd felt utterly _powerless_ about a situation. A core aspect of his ethos since then had been to ensure that he was never so powerless again.

Two years later, Marrybell mel Britannia had entered the royal scene. Her mother, Flora mel Britannia, was of a sickly disposition, and had spent most of her married life sequestered in a remote estate near Area One. Marrybell had been raised there, but at thirteen, she had apparently debuted in the Pendragon Court of her own volition.

Standing alone, a mere child in that nest of vipers, back rigid and face stern, she had reminded Schneizel of Lelouch so much that it ached.

He knew that swooping in and attempting to establish a similar relationship with her would have ended poorly, though. He'd have looked the very image of a poison-tongued elder prince, preying on his younger, more naive half-siblings. Distrust and suspicion would have always been in the back of her mind.

But that didn't mean he wasn't above pulling strings. Just a few, not enough to stunt her own development, but enough to spare her unnecessary hardship.

Ensuring her entrance to the Pendragon Military Academy, which wasn't guaranteed even for royals. Giving her a battlefield assignment in suppressing the revolts following the Area Eleven incident, during which she won many honors. And just last week, passing along a recommendation to Marshal Cornwall as to who should command Britannia's first Air Legion. Given that it was his people that invented the technology, it was give substantial consideration.

Yes, he knew that the behavior was irrational. But humans were not meant to be creatures of pure rationality. If playing the anonymous Fairy Godmother to one of his younger siblings served to ease his grief...

Well, there were far worse alternatives.

"Give her marching orders. The First Air Legion is to make for New Wolverhampton as soon as is practicable. Only as fast as the solar power systems will allow though. No sense in wasting Sakuradite, especially for a potential false alarm."

"Yes, Your Highness. Also, President Khoza sent a missive just an hour ago, through the usual intermediaries."

He half-knew what it would say, but Schneizel still cocked an ear. "Oh?"

Kanon smiled softly at his Master's eagerness. This plan _had_ been the product of over a month's planning, and it was now ready to be put into action. The thought of dealing the Union its deathblow in a single operation sent tingles down his spine.

"Zero's Airborne have taken Port Said."

"Are Khoza's men ready to mobilize?"

"They already have."

In a rare loosening of his guard, Schneizel permitted a wicked smile to mar his princely visage. "Then give Commodore Bankes orders to execute Operation Trident."

* * *

They were still following him.

Chastain glanced sideways once again to confirm it. A hooded, white-masked woman lurked in the corner of the mess hall. She and her fellows hadn't even bothered to truly disguise the fact that they were shamelessly stalking him. For over a month now aboard this damnable airship, he'd felt their eyes upon him. Every time he looked around, he'd see one in his peripheral.

He'd reported it to Philippe, of course, but his boss could do very little about it in the immediate. It had been added to the list of things that would be brought up during Zero's inevitable Hemicycle inquest, but unless the stalkers actually _did_ something, they were untouchable.

An idea occurred to him as he thought about that.

All he needed was the ability to plausibly _say_ that they had attacked him. Philippe was the Prime Minister, and would back any version of events that he put forth in the future. So as long as there were no witnesses to contradict him... he'd be able to manufacture any narrative that he wanted.

Smirking, he finished his dinner and dropped the plate off at the receptacle. From the corner of his eye, the masked woman moved to follow him out of the mess.

But if this was to work, he'd need bruises or cuts to show the Hemicycle during the inquest. And he needed them to match up with the woman following him. Which meant that this was about to get unpleasant.

He clicked the pen that he kept in his breast pocket, deactivating the transmitter. It was top-end surveillance gear, the kind that even the DGSE didn't have access to. Philippe had given it to him on the off-chance that Zero was dumb enough to say something incriminating within his hearing. Though unfortunately the man had stuck to simple pettiness thus far.

The bug's feed was constantly streaming to a secure DGSE server, but covert training dictated that no record be kept of a sensitive action like this one. You never knew what 'hidden' information might come back to bite you in an inquest between two powerful political figures.

As casually as he could, he went through the Green-level checkpoint, into the section of the ship exclusive to high-ranking officers. Considering that beside Zero and his staff, the only other people with that clearance were Admiral White and her immediate underlings, this section was usually rather empty.

He took a few quick steps to gain a lead on his pursuer, and ducked inside the public washroom. It was small, with only three enclosed stalls and a sink station—but then again it was on a battleship and only designed to service a handful of officers.

Knowing that Zero's goon would follow him inside any second, he took a position behind the door and waited. Once she came in, a blow to the stomach should be enough to incite her without leaving a bruise. After that, he could weather a few blows—enough to get his blood on her knuckles. Then, he'd just flee like a victim and call for the Airsec troopers. The security cameras for this deck would corroborate his story.

Normally a subordinate's actions wouldn't be able to take down someone like Zero, and they certainly wouldn't be enough to have him criminally tried unless this goon flipped on him, but when combined with his unauthorized invasion of Africa, they would at the very least be enough to see him stripped of command.

If Minister Philippe played his cards right, he could probably even see Zero kicked back to the Outer Hemicycle, where he belonged.

The sound of boots paused outside the bathroom door, and after a moment it swung open.

To the woman's credit, she seemed to register his presence almost instantly. Something tipped her off, and she swiveled around to face him—but by that point his fist was already driving towards the flesh of her stomach. It collided heavily, and his hand almost hurt from the muscled rigidity of her abdomen, but the sudden punch still had its desired effect.

She grunted sharply and stumbled backwards, catching herself on the sink. Philippe stared down her mask in challenge, and he could almost swear that a red glow suddenly emitted from its dark eye-sockets.

"About fucking time," she growled, cracking her knuckles so loudly that they echoed like gunshots in the washroom.

Chastain mocked a kissing gesture, and assumed a French pugilist stance, keeping his guard deliberately low so that his face was exposed. If she had any hand-to-hand training, the opening was a mile wide.

But she didn't take it. Instead, she grinned darkly and swung low, towards his stomach. It was a damnably foolish move. All she'd succeed in doing would be breaking her fist on his elbows.

He moved his arm to intercept the heavy-handed blow, and screamed when it impacted. Instead of diffusing, the woman's fist _shattered_ his elbow and continued through without even slowing. Ribs cracked when it finally found his target, and he collapsed to the floor in a choking heap.

"I have been waiting for you to do that for weeks now," she told him, a definite tone of annoyance in her voice as she crushed his windpipe with the heel of her tall leather boot. Crouching down, her hand extended and began rifling through his pockets. His cellphone came out, followed shortly by his bug pen. With a contemptuous air she snapped both of them in half with her bare hands and flushed the ends down the nearest toilet.

Her boot returned to its suffocating position as she touched the side of her head. "Sayoko, it's Dalque. Chastain finally made his move. Initiate a soft lockdown, and get one of our medic teams down here. His bug's finally down, so send Mao as well if you would."

Deactivating her radio, she looked down to leer at him in a way that brought an involuntary shudder to his spine.

"Don't look like that, Mr. Chastain. It's finally time for you to help save the world."

* * *

" _Liberty_ , my good people. It is so often touted as some shining, inherent virtue, but at its most base level, what _is_ 'Liberty'? What is its innate value? I shall tell you: it is a crutch. In a failing, weak, or tyrannical government, the freedom of the individual is the life preserver that keeps the average human potential from dipping _below_ the bottom line at the hands of incompetent rulers forcing their will on the people. But it is also harmful. It is the veil that the most insidious among humanity use to mask the actions they take at the expense of others. Like any crutch, if used for longer than needed, the harm will begin to vastly outweigh the good.

After all, in a properly functioning government, simply acting in the best interests of the people, what use is 'Liberty'? If the government is not to be feared and distrusted, then the only use for 'Liberty' is to _defy_ the wellbeing of your fellow man. To put your interests above theirs. To be _selfish_ —"

Leila kept one ear on Price's speech as she once more scanned the cheering crowd with a wary eye. After Tsar Alexander's sudden declaration of outright support for the Ave a month ago, the Party's size had swelled exponentially.

As had the incidents.

Just as Price had promised, the Party's success had set off a cascade of escalating pushback, and the police were never of any help. Fire alarms pulled in Bern, attempted assault of Price in Marseille, a Molotov thrown at their vehicle in Prague, and an attempt to smuggle in a gun at their venue in Copenhagen. Needless to say, Leila and her Praetorians had been growing more vigilant with each narrowly-foiled incident.

And as this was their last speaking event in Rome, Leila knew that if anything was going to happen, now would be the time.

This was also, unfortunately, the largest crowd Price had ever spoken to. Though indoors, thousands were packed in standing-room-only conditions through the Roman Public Hall, waiting on the words of Leila's boss with bated breath.

The man himself stood on a tall stage at a podium, bringing the Union closer to salvation with every word that left his mouth. Leila tried to avoid hero worship, but it was exceedingly hard the more she listened to Price. A tight barrier of Praetorians—former members of Leila's Z-Company donned in black dress uniforms with leather-bound saps on their hips—separated the stage from the front rows of the crowd.

" _Second row, far right end,_ " intoned Oscar's voice in her earpiece. " _Two_ _men, with blonde hair._ "

At her right-hand's words, Leila's head snapped to the area just slowly enough that it was not obvious. Standing out from the mostly-Italian crowd, were two lanky men with fair hair and a vaguely Eastern European look to them. Also unlike those around them, they did _not_ seem to be enjoying the rally. The taller was actively glaring, while the other was fiddling with something in his pocket.

She squinted, trying to see what he was toying with, but the distance was too far and the crowd too thick. "Oscar," she whispered, "tighten the cameras on the shorter one. What's he doing?"

Perhaps it was paranoia, but after several major and dozens of minor incidents, her hand was already casually resting on her holstered sidearm. She had half a mind to put an alert out to Claus' High-Threat-Response team waiting backstage with H&K MP19s—sourced by Price and his extensive, mysterious contacts of course—but she decided against it. The last thing they needed was a massacre because the Wild Geese mercs they'd hired as heavy-duty security got jumpy.

Oscar's voice said something, but the crowd cheered so loudly at the same time that his words were drowned out. "Repeat, Oscar. Say again."

There was a certain _worrying_ edge to Oscar's tone. "He's definitely got something in his pocket. His coat keeps blocking my view. It's metal, but it's not a gun. I can't see it any better than that, though."

Leila frowned sharply. There was a warning bell ringing in her head, but she couldn't identify its source.

Thankfully, Price chose this moment to deliver the last line of his opening remarks, before stepping back behind the curtain so that he could drink some water and double-check his oration.

The moment her primary VIP was out of target range, Leila chose to be safe. "Pull those two outside and search them. Be quick and cautious."

"Understood."

Oscar relayed her order from the security center, and three of her men maintaining the cordon broke off. They approached the two suspicious individuals, maintaining the golden security balance of imposing but genial. Leila watched one of the Praetorians extend a hand towards the side exit, obviously attempting to politely escort them outside. The taller blonde shook his head, but the shorter one's eyes grew wild. Like a fox realizing that it's foot is caught in a snare.

The look in his eyes. She recognized the look. No.

She tried to intervene, but she couldn't be heard over the dull roar of the crowd. Her pistol once more found its place in her grip, but she had no shot. One of her men, Darby, placed a light hand on the shorter man's arm, in an ushering manner. The arm in his pocket.

It was his first, and last, mistake.

"LIBERTY OR DEATH!" was the last thing Leila heard before an eardrum-shattering detonation rocked her off her feet and rattled her skull. After several incoherent seconds, she groaned and sat up. Her ears were ringing badly, and a warm fluid stung her eyes. She was in the Foreign Legion long enough to recognize that it was blood. And she'd dealt with enough suicide bombers during the Bulgarian Insurrection to know that it probably wasn't hers.

Wiping it away, she squinted into the chaos that was the speaking hall. An enormous, charnel _smear_ now filled the space that the five men, and the hundred-some bystanders packed in around them, had once occupied.

Two more of her men, who had been keeping up the nearby cordon, were also dismembered on the ground. A third private was missing his lower legs, and his panicked comrades were desperately trying to keep him from going into shock.

Looking up, the crowd wasn't much better. Wounded and healthy alike madly stampeded towards any exit—mercilessly trampling any that fell out of their panicked rhythm. Animalistic terror ruled as smoke and dust obscured what the half-extinguished and dangerously-sparking light fixtures tried and failed to illuminate.

Her hearing returned suddenly, and violently.

Screaming. So much screaming. The wounded screeching for help. The responders calling for aid. Everyone else screaming out of sheer primate instinct.

Individual words were impossible to make out. It all blended together into a demonic choir, the sound one would expect to hear if they pressed an ear to the entrance of Tartarus itself.

But Leila had not become a Captain of the Foreign Legion by letting shock and horror stun her. She could do nothing here. Her primary objective was to see to Price's safety, and she could do that.

Illuminated only by the chemically-luminescent emergency exit signs, she stumbled back into the Green Room behind the stage. Her finger rested on her Beretta's trigger guard as she entered—ready for anything.

"Leila," greeted Price in relief, even as Claus and his team instinctively trained their submachine guns on her. "What the hell just happened?"

She didn't break her stride, physically seizing the back of Price's coat and leading him towards the back door like a mother escorting a child. "Exfil C," she said, and Claus understood. With a few short orders, half his team went ahead to clear the way, while the other half covered their rear as they hurriedly moved out.

"Someone from the crowd slipped in a bomb vest," she said tersely, eyes swiveling in search of threats. Over her earpiece, she overhead Oscar getting their emergency vehicles into position. "A lot of people are dead, but they were here for you, Mr. Price. We're getting you back to the hotel. Keep your head down, and do _exactly_ as I say, sir. There may be more of them."

Her boss nodded in understanding. This wasn't the first threat on his life, after all.

The hallways they moved through were barren and poorly-lit. Flashlights were forced to make up the difference—the sporadic lighting putting everyone on edge. A few turns later, they arrived at the service door for staff and VIPs, which exited into a narrow side-street between the main hall and its adjacent building.

Three black SUVs with tinted windows screeched to a halt mere feet from the door. The lead member of Claus' HTR team rushed out and opened the rear door of the middle vehicle. Leila, still holding the back of Price's coat, rushed towards the open entrance and bodily shoved her VIP inside—minimizing the time he was exposed to the open air.

It was that speed which saved his life as a distant crack preceded the terrible shriek of a sniper round whizzing by. Leila cried in pain as it struck her shoulder instead. Even though it failed to penetrate the high-grade kevlar lining of her uniform, she still felt it fracture bone.

Claus, in turn, saved _her_ life as he placed a hand to her back and forced her inside as he barreled in. He slammed the door shut and yelled, "DRIVE!" to the Praetorian at the wheel. Another crack sounded outside, and a sniper round impacted against the bulletproof windscreen.

Burnt rubber and squealing tires overwhelmed Leila's battered senses as the three vehicles roared out of the side-street.

* * *

It was a good day, Lelouch decided as he sliced the cap off a bottle of _Dom Pérignon_. If nothing else, he'd say this for the French: they knew their champagne. Pressing his thumb, he slowly worked the cork out.

With a loud pop, it flew from the bottle and across his private quarters. In a display of reflex that could only be brought about by Synaptic Boosters, Sayoko's hand snapped out and plucked it form the air before it hit Kallen.

The room's occupants blinked at the surreal nonchalance of the scene, before laughing in unison.

Doling the golden wine out into seven crystal glasses, Lelouch distributed them to the room's occupants—himself, C.C, Kallen, Sayoko, Cornelia, Euphemia, and Jeremiah.

Glass in hand, he took a moment to gaze out the one-way reinforced glass of his chamber's window, to the conquered city below and the precious canal attached to it. For a brief second, the enormity of his situation washed over him like a wave. A city. An army. A nation. An empire. Their fates were all tied to his. The greatest gamble in the history of humankind.

Six weeks total it had taken to secure the Mediterranean coast. General Fritz would be ferrying the 1st Union Army over the Strait into Tangiers at this very moment.

When Operation Notos commenced, two divisions stationed in each of their beachhead cities would advance southwards to the 27th North Parallel, while Fritz would bring the 1st Army, consisting of six division in total, down from Tangiers and eastwards like a sledgehammer. If successful, they would succeed in enveloping the FPA garrison forces contained between them.

They'd be capturing the entire Green Belt, the nearly 800 million acres of resource-rich territory that made up Northern Africa. Farmlands, mines, timber forests, and factory towns. Enough to start building the army he'd need to fight Britannia.

The Union Army was nothing to scoff at, to be sure, but he'd been forced to cut a great many corners to see them constructed in time to be of use. None that would impact their fighting ability, but ones that a clever opponent like Schneizel would be able to exploit if given time.

Which of course was why he needed to—

"For God's sake Lelouch," sighed an exasperated C.C as she placed a hand on his shoulder and spun him around to face his compatriots. "You've won today. You even poured champagne. Can you place a hold on the brooding and plotting for just tonight? I can't speak for Jerry, but I know that the rest of us are planning to ride you raw once we're done here, and we don't want you scowling when we do so."

Smiling, Lelouch took her hand in his own. "I could wear my Zero mask, if that would help."

"Don't tempt me," muttered Sayoko. The rest of the girls turned an eyebrow on her, and she flushed defensively. "What? I don't know if he realizes, but he dials up his dominating side about five times when he puts that mask on."

Kallen, Cornelia, and Euphemia seemed to consider that for a moment, their faces turning intrigued.

"You ladies are going to be the death of me," Lelouch sighed, before pausing and reconsidering his words. "Well, you know what I mean."

He raised his glass of champagne in a toast, and the rest soon joined him.

"To the completion of another step in world domination."

* * *

 _Luogotenente_ Lucci Romano was taking a smoke break when it happened. He'd been leaning on a rail overlooking the Mediterranean, on his stationed Union Navy Supply Base on the island of Malta, and as he gazed into the sea he spotted a small dark line slowly rising up from the water.

He squinted, hoping that it was a fin whale. Ricco claimed to have seen an entire group breach a week ago, and he wanted to see one himself before next month, when he'd be rotated off the island.

A loud whoosh overhead drew his gaze to an incoming Airborne supply cutter, with two escort VTOLs. The fat-bellied aircraft swooped down to the Sakuradite stockyard, near where an engineer crew was laying the groundwork for a laser missile-defense-turret. Though this base had been in place for over a year now, its position safely cocooned in the Mediterranean meant that High Command had prioritized functionality at the expense of noncritical elements. They were just now getting a few redundant upgrades.

Ignoring the routine aircraft, Lucci went back to whale watching. The distant whale had definitely broke surface now, but there was something off about it. Its shape was too... straight.

Fumbling in the side-pockets of his pants, he withdrew a small pair of naval binoculars and focused in on the whale.

He recognized it just in time to see twelve missile hatches snap open on the submarine's top, before their contents streaked upwards like silent specters. Stun gripped him as he dumbly followed their trajectory, all the way until the point where they hit the Sakuradite stores behind him and set half the island ablaze.

* * *

"How do you feel about working under Fritz?"

Gerd shrugged, examining his cards. They'd been on the EUNS _Spearhead_ for three hours now. Only about an hour of that was supposed to be transportation, but with the entire 1st Army coming across the Strait with their tanks, KMFs, and equipment, there had been a lot of boarding, oversight, and inspection that slowed the process down.

They'd just gotten underway about twenty minutes ago, and would be arriving in Tangiers within the hour.

"Fold," he said in disgust, flopping his cards on the small, round table he and his fireteam had appropriated in their platoon's troop quarters. "I've got no gripes with the good general. Zero's supposed to be some strategic mastermind, and he hand-picked the guy. Can't be that bad."

Einhard raised his thick brow, though whether it was at his card or Gerd's statement he couldn't tell.

"Raise ten. You sure it was Zero's appointment though? I heard that it was Smilas who got him the job. Something about them going to the Paris Academy together. You know how those old-school, blue-blood types are. It's all favor and connections with them."

That made Cyrille wave dismissively. "Call. I can't speak for Fritz, but Smilas is on the up-and-up. Man enlisted as a private, and got himself a Legion of Honor medal. Legitimate war hero, him. Singlehandedly rescued a dozen wounded civilians in the aftermath of a shelling during the Greek Secession—with a broken leg at that. He only went to the Paris Academy afterwards."

"Why don't you suck him off a little more, Ciri?" jabbed Heine, before turning. "You gonna call, Armel, or is a twenty buy-in too rich for your French sensibilities?"

"I think I—"

A deafening warning klaxon sounded that echoed through the whole deck. The intercom blared with a rushed voice. " _ENEMY SUBMERSIBLE DETECTED! ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR—"_

The voice was cut off as a series of enormous and staccato shudders rocked the entire ship. Gravity seemed to tilt sideways, and Gerd found himself falling out of his chair and sliding against the far wall. He realized after a moment that the ship was already rocking to one side.

Less than a second later, the lights went out, leaving them completely blind in the ship's steel innards. The _sinking_ ship's innards.

"Chemlights!" cried someone on the far end of the large troop quarters. "For God's sake, chemlights!"

There was a great deal of frightened scrambling as fifty-some soldiers attempted to locate their stowed packs in the pitch black. Time seemed to stretch on forever in that endless black, the muffled sounds of similar panic coming through the bulkhead walls from other sections of the ship.

Eventually, there was a crackling sound, followed by a sharp green glow a few feet away. Cyrille had found his pack, it seemed. With the unnatural lighting, he began sliding packs out from the roof rack, and soon their entire five-man fireteam had glowing chemsticks. With their illumination, soon their entire platoon had their own sticks cracked on. Gerd examined the faces in the room, frowning.

"Where the hell's Lieutenant Dufresne?"

The men looked back and forth for a moment, before a young Private spoke up. Simmel, his name was. "I think the Colonel had pulled him in for some meeting, Sarge. Staff Sergeant Gigot too."

"Peachy," muttered Gerd. "Just fucking peachy."

He looked at the frightened men in the glowing green light, and realized that this was not the time for that kind of attitude. These men needed a way out of here.

"Life jackets. Everybody grab life jackets. More than one if there are spares, in case we run into anyone on the way out."

As a Sergeant, he didn't have the authority to command his platoon, but they just seemed grateful for someone to be giving orders. They all made for the large cabinet labeled 'Flotation Harnesses' and began stripping it bare with the feverish enthusiasm of holiday shoppers.

Einhard tossed him a vest, and he strapped it on numbly, hoping that his terror didn't show on his face. He'd read accounts about being on a sinking battleship, and they weren't pretty.

He closed his eyes, mentally trying to recall the route from their quarters to the top deck. That was when he heard it. A faint, repeating siren. Seven short blares, then a long one. They had learned during Basic that it was the universal signal to abandon a ship.

It was as good a sign as he was going to get.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," he called, waving his chemlight to grab attention. He didn't remember the route, but he knew that they were only two decks down, and he remembered the door they came in through.

Making his way to the thick bulkhead, he gripped the wheel and spun it. For such a large mechanism, it was surprisingly easy to operate. Three spins, and the door swung open on oiled hinges.

Allowing ankle-high water to pour into the troop compartment.

Men loosed shouts of alarm as the frigid water washed past them, but Gerd waved them forward and stepped into the hallway. From here, he could hear the shouting from the rest of the ship more clearly. Calls to activate bilge pumps. Calls to damn the bilge pumps, and abandon the sinking ship. Calls to rescue vital equipment, and calls to ignore it.

But Gerd already knew what he need to do, and the was keep his Platoon alive. "Come on, this way!"

Looking left and right, he spotted a metal staircase leading upwards. Wherever it went, it was closer to the deck than here. And considering the heavy smoke was wafting from the opposite direction, they needed to get out before they started to suffocate.

Ensuring that the men were following, he made for the staircase. It was slick with the water pouring down it, but the handrail meant that he could keep his grip.

Step by step, he rose up higher up the transport ship. The smoke was beginning to get so thick that it was obscuring his vision, but half-way up, he saw what looked like a glimmer of sunlight.

Then, a single, piercing shout echoed through the metal corridors.

"THE FIRE'S SPREAD TO THE MAGAZINES! THEY'RE GONNA BLO—"

* * *

Gene watched, horrified, as another troop ship detonated with thousands of soldiers still aboard. Only a single division had made it to the sheltered harbor of Tangiers, safe from the Black Sub torpedoes.

Damn Ashford.

 _ **Damn Ashford**_! His underwater sonar network was supposed to keep those subs out of the Strait! So why was he watching five divisions being _massacred_ at sea?

"Sir," said his aide, William, nervously. Gene turned slowly, his face causing poor William to blanch. "Sir, we've just received word. It's more than the troop ships. Black Subs just popped up around the entire Mediterranean, targeting our Navy supply depots. Alboran, Ibiza, Palma, Sardinia, Pantelleria, Malta, and Crete. All of them were hit, and are out of action."

Seething, Gene collapsing into his chair, before it hit him. That didn't make sense. Sinking five divisions did, but attacking the Union Navy depots? That wouldn't hamper the Navy. They had enough staying power to piggyback off the continental bases of Spain, France, Italy, and Greece.

No, those depots weren't even made for the Navy. Primarily, they were resupply bases for...

The Airborne. Which was currently on the opposite of Africa, and now unable to refuel. And the Black Subs had just cut off both reinforcement and retreat across the Strait for Tangiers. Which meant only one thing.

An attack.

* * *

 _[End Chapter]_

* * *

 **Welcome back, folks. Neolyph here, with more Darwin. As promised several chapters ago, Lelouch is finally facing proper resistance in Africa. As is Reid in Europe. I hope that the constant explosions this chapter didn't get repetitive. They seemed that way in the first draft, so I had to rewrite it a few times. If it was still that way, you have my apologies in advance.**

 **Now, for the customary review responses.**

 **Nerf585:** Yes, eventually. It might not even happen this act.

 **AshKetchum. :** Well, I'm flattered to hear that. I hope that you'll enjoy the coming chapters.

 **Kaiya Azure:** Lady Liberty _is_ a separate individual, and working for neither Lelouch or Schneizel—though Schneizel is aware of her and has actually given her some funding through a Chinese intermediary.

 **Generation Zero:** As you can see, things are heating up in both Europe and Africa. While Philippe's mistake is severe, it's not as stupid as it seems. From his perspective, Zero is just a wayward general. The idea of the man having formed a secret fifth column loyal to him within the military that's supposed to answer to the Hemicycle, it's unlikely for pretty much anyone but Lelouch.

 **GJMEGA:** You're right, that was poorly written. It was an oversight between edits. I originally intended that to mean that Oscar would _understand_ her reasoning, but not necessarily agree with it.

 **some fucking random guy:** Consider the pace picked up, my friend.

 **Erit of Eastcris:** Most of my quotes are just ones that I come across randomly and feel would fit certain parts of the story. Others are just pseudo-philosophic ramblings that only make sense in the Darwin-verse.

 **TigerJacob:** Well, without Geass and immortality to smooth over the cogs of government, most monarchies are basically a dice roll for the competence of a ruler. But I get your point. I mean, Lelouch is out to create a genuine utopia, and he's got a solid plan to see it done. Rooting for him is what I aim for the audience to do, despite his faults.


End file.
